


Sigh No More

by amani101



Series: A Tale of Two Princes [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha!LOki, Alpha!Thor, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Frostiron Arranged Marriage Prompt, M/M, Omega!Steve, Reference to Norse Myths and Lore, Slow Burn, Snark Galore, Tony-centric, Wooing, courting, omega!Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 82,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3589914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amani101/pseuds/amani101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yggdrasil, consisting of nine realms, has been coexisting somewhat peacefully with its neighbors for over a millennium. Their ally scouts from Nova Corps of the outer rim has spotted the parasitic species known as the Chitauri Locust heading for their quadrant of the universe. Given their estimate, within a century time the plague would be upon them. The Council of the Nine Realms lead by Odin All-Father begins the mobilization of all forces except for Midgard due to their rare abundance of Omegas and were thus kept ignorant. Decades pass, Midgard has made leaps and bounds in their science. With the threat looming in the horizon, they decided to reopen communication and bring the planet back into the fold. Mistrustful at first, Earth's World Security Council demanded for a sign of good will for the part humans would play in the incoming space war. After some consideration, Odin agrees to a marriage alliance at their request. Adversely, the countries with monarchies interpreted this as a threat to their royal human lineage, so marries off their Omegas even the infants. The WSC then included that Omegas from key prominent families as fair game. Thus Anthony Edward Stark was declared an ideal candidate before the age of 10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Got instant plot bunnies as soon as I saw the prompt on Frostiron tumblr. So to answer my muses threat of mutiny if I did not put it down, here goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, the lovely Jay was abled to beta only this single chapter.
> 
> Edited: 12/13/2016

“Hey, old man. I've got something for ya.” 

The clank of a glass bottle on marble echoes briefly within the hollow of the Stark Mausoleum. The dust it displaces pillows out before resettling.

After a moment, and a bit of shuffling, Tony pulls out two clear shot glasses from a hidden pocket on his uniform. He uncorks the bottle and fills the glasses to the brim.

“This one’s from your own collection, so bottoms up.”

Tony picks up a glass, clinks it against the other and downs the shot of whiskey in one. The liquid leaves a trail of fire and he abruptly coughs.

“Shit, it burns. How can you even like this stuff? Yeah, I know, I’m not even legal yet. But you know, I'm old enough to shoot aliens in the head, so what's it matter?”

Unsure of what else to say, Tony heaves a sigh and settles against the raised tomb, promptly waving off more dust. After tossing the now empty glass back and forth between his hands a few times, he slowly but surely finds his voice.

“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for shipping me off to the Academy. It was a dick move, and you know it.”

Another sigh and he plops the glass down next to him.

“I still can’t believe you got Captain Uptight-pants as my guardian. After so many years he still looks younger than some of our new recruits, and his personality is about as interesting as the ice cube S.H.I.E.L.D. chiseled him out of; only an ice cube would’ve thawed by now.“

Tony knew he was wasting time. He was given ten minutes. Ten minutes to resolve his shit. Ten minutes to get his stuff in order. Ten minutes before he ships out. Ten minutes to say goodbye.

Ten minutes is not enough. He hadn’t visit since the funeral service years ago, but still. No one ever told him it would be this hard to talk to dead people.

“It’s really happening, dad. The swarm invasion; the Alliance; me getting hitched to an alien prince. It’s fucking surreal.”

He taps his head back against the tomb and welcomes the sharp bloom of pain over the constant numbness he's been feeling recently.

“I read that damn Proclamation, you know. How the hell did you manage to pull off that I’m a ‘Prince of Midgard’ anyway? And when were you planning to tell me that I got a dowry? A fucking dowry! It’s the twenty first century for fuck sake! Not the medieval ages!” He cried. 

Only for Tony to apologize immediately out of habit for his outburst, "Yeah, I know, watch my mouth. Sorry, mom."

A few moments later, his tone softer than he would like, "I can’t do this, dad. Marry someone I don’t even know, let alone love? I know it’s my duty but, what if this prince wants an heir and I can’t provide?"

"I’m broken. Damaged goods. That bomb didn’t just take you guys away from me and gave me a shiny new jewelry. My heat hasn’t shown up at all, even though Omegas as young as twelve are common enough. Sure, those know it all therapists say it’s different for some Omegas, but that’s just a fancy way of saying _‘you’re messed up and here’s hoping it’ll happen, kid’_. I read somewhere that a rare few are born sterile; maybe I’m one of those and my heat would never happen."

"Look, can’t you fix it somehow? Is there, like, I don’t know…hidden clauses in that damn contract you sold me off or something? Old Nicky said you held them off for a decade already with that. Between the two of you, you must have some old trick up your sleeve? I know for a fact that old spymaster’s secrets have secrets.”

“Hey, Tony.”

“Guh!”

Spooked, his right gauntlet palm raised and ready, flashes bluish-white in warning. Upon recognizing the interloper, he powered it down immediately.

“I could have killed you, Uncle Steve.”

The other man rolled his eyes at the familiarity.

“It’s Captain. We’re in uniform and no, you won’t. It’s time.”

“Shit, already? One more minute, please. Please, Uncle Steve?”

Steve disappears behind the double doors for a brief moment before he poke his head back in.

“Two minutes.”

The door closes and Tony is alone once more. Somewhat frustrated by the lack of time and his need for closure, Tony runs both hands through his hair. Releasing another sigh in defeat, he gets back up on his feet and straightens his uniform.

“Alright. So this is it. Last words: Dad, you’re still a dick. Mom, I loved you and I wish you could be at my political shotgun wedding. Jarvis, buddy, old friend. I missed you terribly. Well, wish me luck. I’m off to get hitched to an alien.”

With a last minute look at the empty crypt, he makes a slow trek towards the door and stops. A quick turnabout, a swift return graveside, and Tony swipes the remaining shot. The whiskey burns in his gut.

Now he’s ready.


	2. Of Distraction and Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 12/13/2016

Tony recognized that look. Not even waiting for the Quinjet to take off, America’s own golden boy began his lecture. It was a song and dance Tony Stark knew well.

“I thought the bottle of whiskey was for Howard?”

Arrested in the motion of buckling in, he then proceeds to take his time while avoiding eye contact at all cost. He mumbled instead, “It was.”

“Then why do I smell alcohol on your breath even from here?”

His eyebrows knit together and he discretely breathes onto his palm and sniff. Huh. Caught red handed, perhaps he should fess up. A method Tony found to work wonders in preventing being chewed out further, although, it might help keep his mind off from wandering elsewhere.

So he grumbles, “I didn’t want it to go to waste. I did leave the bottle and I’m sure the groundskeeper would thank me later.”

Steve wasn’t having any of it unlike Pepper. If Tony had been looking, he would not have withstood the disappointment.

“You know how I feel about underage drinking, especially while on assignment. Tony, you can’t be impaired today of all days. How much did you drank?”

He looks down at the floor and shuffles his feet, before admitting in a low whisper, “Just two shots.”

“Tony!”

That tone always makes him feel like a ten year old. And he defended himself like one.

“I thought it would help. I’m sorry.”

The low rumbling of the Quinjet cruising at altitude fills the tense silence. Espying Steve's pacified grimace, Tony sags in relief and took it as permission that the subject was dropped for now and was thankful. His eyes soon wander towards the large window of the front cockpit, it was nothing but clear skies. Sure enough, thoughts of the future crept back to his fore thoughts and suddenly he felt queasy. Perhaps Steve was right about something.

“You okay?”

No, he feels like hurling up his breakfast.

“Peachy.”

He vaguely heard Steve rattling on about something before the man move to the seat next to him. His uncle gave him the patent I-know-you-aren’t-fine look. Tony reciprocates with his patent smirk he reserves for the public. Steve merely rolled his eyes before he tilt his head aside like when he’s listening to the comms in his ear and leaves a moment later.

Tony tries some breathing exercises when something flies towards him and he caught it on reflex, thus overriding his long standing pet peeve of being handed things. Looking down, he opens his palm and read the bold print on the yellow tube: AntiPoleez. Huh, what do you know?

“Thanks.”

“No problem, man. Had a wild night myself.”

Tony sprays some in his mouth and made a face. He tests his breath once more. Nice. Wait, that voice sounds familiar. Glancing up, he did a double take. Of all the people—

“Birdbrain!”

He scrambles free from his seat and launches at his pack mate. Oh, how he’d missed this guy. Sufficiently tackled, said man laughs and hugs him back.

“Miss you too, Prince Stark.”

Bristling from those words, Tony pulls away.

“Ugh, not funny, Clint.”

“How about Iron Maiden?”

Not rising to the bait, Tony only shook his head.

“So, what are you doing here? I thought you were off chasing the elusive Black Widow?”

That shit eating grin was back on the other’s face. He must have had a wild time alright. Tony was never more thankful for the unexpected distraction, despite being genuinely interested in Clint’s exploits.

“I was.”

“That’s it? That’s all you are giving me? It’s been a year, man. Come on, details.”

Clint’s grin widens.

“It’s classified, remember? You’re not supposed to know about that mission.”

Making a face, Tony puffs up his chest.

“I call bullshit. There’s no system I can’t hack and you know it.”

“That’s not something to boast about, Tony. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

That came from the cockpit. He should have seen it coming. 

“Yes, Uncle Steve.”

“It’s Captain.”

Totally ignoring that of course, Tony presses onward, “So, details?”

Clint responds with a raise brow before he comments, “If you already hacked in, you should know all about it, right? What’s to tell?”

“Look, all it says was REDACTED and that was like months ago. So what gives?”

Surprisingly, Tony thought he would ever see the day when Clint Barton blushes like a fourteen year old fanboy meeting Ms. July.

“Would you believe…I got bonded?”

That didn’t sound right.

“You? Mr. Co-ed? The Clint Barton who shot the bra clasp off Agent Hill without getting caught, bonded? The same Clint Barton who bet me—“

Tony soon found his mouth covered in a somewhat awkward headlock and Clint very close murmuring desperately, “Now now, Tony. Nobody wants to hear about my past exploits now do we?”

“Whmm mm hmmm?”

“I don’t know Clint, I certainly would like to hear more.”

Oh. That voice was feminine, husky accent (nice), and definitely not from Steve Rogers. Both Tony and Clint turn their startled eyes to a figure standing next to the co-pilot seat. First thing Tony noticed was her boobs, they look familiar. Huh. Next his eyes pan out to admire the hourglass figure in a black, skintight cat suit. Wow. His focus zooms back in on the boobs again then up before they pause at the red pouty lips, smoky eyes, and red curly hair. Hot damn. Wait. Those look familiar too. Now heavy with suspicion, Tony takes in the whole picture and sucks in a breath before he remembered the hand still covering his mouth. In his rush to breathe, he slaps Clint’s hand away and points an accusing finger at her.

“You’re Natalie Rushman. The PA I didn’t hire after JARVIS detected you tried to seduce me with a seventy proof Alpha-laced pheromone perfume.”

Seeing her replying smirk though, Tony quickly did the square root of two and came to the right conclusion.

“Clint, say it isn’t so? You didn’t bond yourself to the Black Widow, did you? Did she trick you with the scent thing? I’m ashamed of you for falling for the oldest trick in the book. She poisons her mates and eats them you know.”

Clint only shakes his head and laughs. Oh no, the guy was doomed. Tony will mourn for him.

“She was _my_ mark but I made the call after tracking her for over half a year. She’s Coulson approved. So quit it. Come say hi, Nat.”

Even her walk was pure seduction. Tony, of course, conveniently forgets that he once almost fell for her trick too. Although, he can proudly say that hiring Virginia “Pepper” Potts out of that whole fiasco was the best decision he ever made for Stark Industries. He’ll miss her. Or perhaps, as a Royal Betroth of the Crown Prince, would he need a PA? Maybe she can bear the heir too?

Shaking off those wandering thoughts, he refocused his attention on the outreach hand. Hesitant at first, he decidedly takes it with a firm handshake.

“Mr. Stark. Please to see you again.”

Her lilting voice was teasing while her body language at ease. Tony knows better. He’d seen her take down Happy with her killer thighs.

“Ms. Romanova or should I call you Mrs. Hawkeye? Or Mrs. Barton soon-to-be-dinner?”

“Call me Natasha, if you can. I didn’t earn my codename for that by the way.”

“I know,” replies Tony with his own grin. “So, what happened to change his mind?”

Both Clint and Natasha shared a look and said fondly, “Budapest.”

And the Captain interrupts, as he’s wont to, “ETA in 15 minutes.”

Then as if on cue, the duo moves back to the cockpit as Steve steps out and motions Tony to take a seat. A bit annoyed by the interruption, Tony quickly does as told and resumes the conversation.

“So what happened in Hungary?”

He tries that is.

Clint raises an offhand salute and calls back, “Later, bro.”

“What? Oh, come on! It was getting good. You can’t leave a pack mate hanging.”

Tony tries looking around Steve for he knew there was a reason for him butting in and no way is he ready for whatever it was.

“Prince Stark of Midgard, I’m here to brief you prior to our arrival.”

And there it was. Dread supersedes his earlier devil-may-care attitude. Tony slouches down on his seat and leans his head back against the headrest.

“Captain, what _possibly_ can you tell me in the next 15 minutes that I haven’t been taught for the past decade of my life? Seriously.”

Steve’s game face never changes. He merely waits a beat before answering.

“If you so choose, the contract your father, Howard Stark, had signed will be made void. In so doing, you, Anthony Edward Stark, will be free of your duty and must relinquish all patent rights and trade secrets afforded by the Alliance to your successor. Furthermore, your memories of the past years or so in relations to all such proprietary intellectual property will be subject to removal. Think carefully before we have your answer. You have five minutes.”

Of course, the bastard even synchronized his digital watch for the countdown. To say Tony was merely floored by that announcement was like putting a rocket off trajectory by ninety degrees. This. He never imagined this. Wait, Steve looks worried, was he hyperventilating? Huh, so he was. It took some effort, but Tony had his breath evening out. Okay, he can do this.

“Shit! You mean to tell me all this time I had an out? Oh, sweet Tesla! Half of my life I’ve been told that this was my duty. Behave like this. Learn that. You should talk like this and don’t fuck around like that. Oh, this is too much.”

He shot out of his seat once more despite Steve’s frown. Well Steve can go— feeling the force of the steep decline, Tony reluctantly collapses back onto his seat. Running both hands through his hair, Tony took a quick moment to calm down again. He glances over at Steve’s watch. Shit, three minutes.

“Okay, tell me this: when you say all memories, what do you mean?”

Steve gave a slight nod before supplying, “Exactly that. All memories of the past couple of years since you were told about the Proclamation wiped out.”

“Like all the science? Iron Man? J.A.R.V.I.S.? Pepper? Rhodey? You guys? The Nine Realms? The Alliance? S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Way to prioritize asshole,” grumbles Clint from the peanut gallery. Tony heard Natasha gave him a quick shush to shut him up.

“Yes, all of it. Including the people who had direct and indirect dealings with you in that capacity. Including us. As much as I dislike the prospect of a massive cover up, to jeopardize the war efforts now at this juncture if words get out may cause mass hysteria. Until the plans to introduce the world to our alien allies are activated, secrecy is necessary in this case.”

It is a lot to take in. Tony can calculate the ramifications. If he says no, this would set Stark Industries back probably ten years. If he says no, it won't be just him who'll have Swiss cheese for memories. If he says no, he doesn’t have to marry an Asgardian Prince.

“Tony, you got less than a minute.”

His eyes rounded when he looks at Steve, stricken by how little time he has left.

“Wait, wait! What do you mean my successor?”

“If you refuse Tony, then your backup will undergo the same deal.”

“And if I say yes? What will happen to them and I guess their backup?”

“Their minds will be wiped clean of the little information they received.”

“Ah geez, can you at least tell me who they are?”

“It’s time. I need an answer, Tony.”

Oh fuck it.

“Yes! …Holy Einstein, I said yes.”

Tony slumps down in his seat in defeat. That was intense. Surprisingly he also felt relieved in a way. Huh, how about that? He shoots Steve a morbid look and noticed the other smug-ass grin. The bastard.

“Agent Barton, kindly continue our course for Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Hold up.

“What do you mean continue? Weren’t we heading to the Triskelion? I thought you said the Ambassador will greet us there?”

Apparently Steve is too busy laughing at his expense to have Black Widow answer for him.

“We would have if you said no, then the _Kree_ Ambassador would have introduced you to his Truncheon.”

His suspicions confirmed, Tony punches Steve none too gently on the chest, not that it would have hurt the guy.

“You knew I would say yes didn’t you? Why the show?”

“Tony, that was all true even and it was evident that you needed a push. We, us, the whole planet needs you behind this. Ultimately, I want you to be happy with your decision. It’s the least I can do for you.”

It’s hard to stay annoyed at a guy who says stuff like that.

“So, now can you tell me who the sorry ass people getting their brains melt instead of me?”

Steve shrugs and looks over at the cockpit.

“Oh, you’ll love this!” Exclaims Clint with the side commentary now that he’s free to talk. “Nat has the intel.”

Ready to play along, Natasha chimes in, “Apparently, Justin Hammer, Victor Von Doom, Hope Van Dyne, and Harold Osborn.”

Tony’s jaw drops.

“You shittin’ me!”

Clint is practically cackling now. “I shit you not. It’s true.”

He couldn’t fathom the alternative. Really?

“First of all, Justin Hammer? Ew. He wouldn’t know what do with all that science and that bumbling idiot does NOT get to represent Earth. No way. Secondly, Victor is a megalomaniac who‘ll probably do world domination let alone world peace. Besides, I thought he refuse to be categorized? As for Hope, actually she’s not bad a choice. But, little Harry? The toddler? I didn’t think Asgard like them that young. Ew.”

Not wanting the discussion to devolve, Steve redirects the topic, “The World Security Council could wait for Osborn, but that's beside the point. You agreed so let’s go over the real briefing.”

Tony didn’t want more, but was resigned to his role now so he resolves to keep half his attention on Steve and the other half on refining the design plans for the Mark VII in his head just because he can.

* * *

“We’re here, Captain.”

As the humming of the Quinjet dies down, all four rose from their seats. The wait was finally over.

“Let’s go, Tony. Time to meet your future husband.”

Okay, so he wasn’t quite ready to hear that. Tony gives Steve the stink eye.

“Ugh. Can we not call him that? Sounds totally weird and not to mention lame.”

On the other hand, Steve entirely misses the hint by a landslide over the next peninsula.

“It’s a common term these days. Back in the forties, you’ll be lucky if they let you register as a domestic couple even though The Blood Type Pack Movement was gaining speed.”

Tony couldn’t control himself anymore and rolls his eyes, even knowing how Captain America hates it. Although the hypocrite does it almost as much as he does. Admittedly, mostly when dealing with Tony and Clint. Okay, maybe with only snarky a-holes then.

“Don’t need the history lesson, gramps. All I’m saying is that the majority of us young‘uns think marriage is overrated.”

“You do know the Asgardian’s mate for life? And they have really long lives, Tony.”

That took a turn to the serious fast. It wasn’t like Tony hasn’t thought about it.

“….Yeah. How uneven is that? Our lifespan must be like ants to them. When I die, the Crown Prince can ally himself with a new Realm lickety-split. I bet they do these kinds of alliances all the time. No wonder it is no big deal for them to cave in to our World Security Council’s demands. In exchange they get to keep my dowry and our Treaty like forever.”

Steve actually pauses from leaving the Quinjet and turns to eye Tony with a put out expression.

“….I never thought of it that way.”

It is actually cute how Steve suddenly looks affronted on his behalf. So Tony tries to make light of the topic.

“That’s why you’re my guardian and chaperone for so long, Uncle Steve. I’m the brain and you’re the brawn of this operation.”

“I do have a degree, you know.”

“Yes, Art History I know. I on the other hand have three honorary PhDs. I would claim a Nobel Prize too, but I was robbed last year. If S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn’t blocked my entry—”

“You have to exit the plane, Prince Stark.”

Damn. Tony knew that tactic would only work for so long. This is really _happening_ , happening.

“Yes, Captain America. I mean, Captain Rogers, sir. Do you really have to call me Prince? I rather be a symbol. Can I be a symbol?”

“You are. A symbol of prosperity in an alliance for the betterment of humanity.”

And the joke was lost by Steve Rogers’ man-out-of-time routine. Ba-dum-bum-ching, ladies-and-gentlemen.

“I hate it when you get patriotic on me.”

“Shut up, Tony.”

“Much better.”

* * *

They all knew the moment was here. They were standing under the hot desert sun, twenty-five miles from the nearest town. This was where first contact occurred over ten years ago. In fact, the markings from the Bifrost had been preserved by an inch thick layer of glass within S.H.I.E.L.D’s protective enclosure. Even now, their scientists head by a renowned astrophysicist, Dr. Erik Selvig and his young protégé, Jane Foster, is monitoring the upcoming event. Tony had read most of their research and can feel their very palpable curiosity shooting off in waves. It wouldn’t be the first time that Tony had to fend for himself. He rather not be a guinea pig to be prodded and outfitted with recording devices. Personally, he avoids these zealots on principle.

Anyhow, Tony felt dumb standing there, in the middle of the circle all by himself with only a carry-on size duffle by his side. All this time, he’d assumed Steve was going with him. Apparently he was wrong. The Asgardians had dictated the events to the letter. The Betroth must ascend alone to Alfheim where the Crown Prince shall spend an uncertain amount of time to court him. Once, all parties have observed the traditions, words shall be sent to continue with the proceedings. So it wasn’t like he had a choice.

“Tony!”

Cut from his musings, Tony looks as exasperated as he feels.

“What now? How long is this going to take?”

“You have to say the password, Tony.”

Password? Oh, from the Proclamation. He felt stupid, but hey, still a genius.

“Alright, this is it then. Steve, Clint, Widow, and weird peeping toms behind the curtains, I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

His eyes began to blur and he couldn’t voice what he really wanted to say. That’s right, real men (even Omegas) don’t cry and they don’t do hugs. He felt rather than saw both Steve and Clint drew near and hugs him for all he’s worth. And according to Fortune 500, Tony Stark is worth more than Bill Gates thank you very much.

He wants the moment to last forever but it was over all too soon. The others had already left the circle. After wiping his eyes free of any incriminating evidence, Tony raises his head to the clear blue sky and says, “Heimdall, beam me up.”


	3. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 12/13/16
> 
> Edited: Mar '16  
> Comic Thor's height is 6'6" and Chris Hemsworth is 6'4". Comic Loki's height is 6'4" and Tom Hiddleston is 6'2". Most mythical descriptions of skills, size, weight, and overall badass i base off of the comic book characterization. Most description of movement, facial features, expressions, and tone of voice is base on Marvel Cinematic Universe characterization. One major difference in this ABO verse is that the Omegas tend to be smaller stature and follows typical tropes.

The thoughts that pop up in Tony Stark’s mind during what felt like a short five seconds ride across the cosmos goes something like this: _‘Alien abduction, baby!’_ followed by, _‘I want one of these!’_ and finally, _‘Oh, shit! I’m actually going to another planet!’_

As soon as his footing felt grounded and all the whooshing noise dissipates with the rainbow acid trip, Tony is blindsided by what he saw in a dizzying three-sixty degree slow twirl and mutters with reverence to himself, “Sweet Tesla, goodbye New Mexico, hello Rivendell.”

He landed in the middle of a large stone terrace overlooking part of an alien terrain with a waterfall flowing down into a delta towards the ocean. The midday sun is very bright yet gentle as the breeze that touched his skin. Two moons, one gibbous, the other full, loom above the palatial castle before him. The intricate wood carvings of the lintel, frames the presence of his royal reception. To say the scene presented before him was majestic and beautifully staged would not have done his greeters and their surrounding justice.

This is it. The actual meet and greet. Howard should be proud of him for once if Tony manages to pull this off.

His inner Tolkien wants to fanboy over the nearest elf and gives their pointy ears a tug. They are thinner then he’d seen and taller too. All present were feminine, waifish and fair skin in coloring. They look delicate to the touch. But Tony had seen footage of their warriors in training. They are fast and deadly with inhuman strength. 

He felt out of place with his S.H.I.E.L.D. issued blue uniform compare to their earth tone dress robes. Fortunately, his decade long training kicks in and Tony barely stumbles over his rehearsed script. He places a close fist over his heart and bows at the waist in greeting. Upon straightening, his host, a genteel handsome woman with a crown of gold ringlets framing her face, returns his greeting with a smile. She was more tanned and seems heartier than the others. As she speaks, her entourage dip their knees to curtsy and bow their heads in respect.

“Welcome to the Halls of Gimlé, home to the Ljosalfar, Prince Anthony Stark of Midgard. I am Frigga, your host for the evening.”

Tony likes her immediately. Believe it or not, he’s done his homework prior to coming here. Frigga, the Queen of Asgard and sister to Frey the ruler of Alfheim, has just downplayed her role and made his stay less formal.

“I thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you, your Majesty.” Then just to be cheeky, he hesitates a moment before he points towards the sky, “However, is there a possibility to do that again?”

Frigga remains composed despite her visible effort to stifle a smile. With a twinkle in her eyes, she replies instead, “If you ask prettily enough, I am sure my son, Thor, will indulge you readily.”

So, she made him blush. Tony hadn’t expected that. He looks sideways for a moment to collect his thoughts before deflecting with, “Yes, well, will King Frey and Prince Thor be joining us?”

The Queen flashes him a knowing smirk before she motion one of her attendants to gather his luggage then stretches out a hand for Tony to join her. Taking his cue, Tony moves to do so and allows her soft footsteps to guide him while the rest of her entourage follows discretely behind despite their clear display of excitement. He knows he is being gawked at, but suppose that he is as much a novelty to them as this whole experience is for him. Luckily, Tony Stark is used to being in the limelight.

They pass through the wooden arch and into an enclosed courtyard with high grey flagstone walls. Framing the wide path towards a smaller archway that leads to a separate part of the castle was a multitude of foreign flora and fauna that reminded Tony of the botanical gardens in Maui. Tony knew for a fact that his science bro, Bruce, would give his left nut to be here and examine these samples of exobiological lifeforms. Not like Bruce hadn’t tried petitioning for some Q&A with their more than foreign, extraterrestrial dignitaries. Tony makes a note to himself to collect some clippings for his pack mate later.

“Amongst our own, I grant you, no formalities please. We are soon family.”

Her playful tone from earlier remains. Tony finds no difficulty following her lead. Steve would be so proud of him.

“Will do, ma’am.”

Frigga gave him a measured look before she relents and mischief makes its way back to her lips. Judging from the laugh lines on her face, Tony finds he doesn’t mind the perpetual teasing since he can give as good as he gets. He only hopes that the Crown Prince has inherited similar traits.

“Come now, Anthony. We have barely converse and yet I see your eyes dancing every which way since you arrived. You must be convulsing with curiosity. You are both a scholar and warrior, are you not? However, I believe you are more interested in your surroundings then making a contingency plan.”

Chagrin by her keen observation, Tony shrugs and reach up to scratch the back of his head.

“I feel like a kid in a toy store, not knowing what to see or touch first.”

“Ah, you are very much like my other son, Loki, only he would not have such restraint as you do. Tis only through centuries of indulgence that he is jaded enough to pretend so.”

Easily, Frigga recounts the exploits of her children as they traverse the eastern halls until they reach a set of large dark grain wooden doors that stretch over ten feet tall.

“This will be your quarter for the remainder of your stay. Our tradition dictates that I, as your host, attend you to bathe away the weariness from your travels. I would be much oblige, however, I suspect that will only discomfort you. Should I send for Thor instead?”

She pauses for confirmation and eyes Tony’s cheeks blossom with healthy color again. He’s never heard of _THAT_ protocol before.

“Nay? It would be most inappropriate, would it not? Well then, a bath awaits, as well as a change of garments. Would a servant in attendance be sufficient?”

He’ll have to nip the coloring in the bud first thing. That is if he can find the off switch. Tony suspects he’ll have a hard time finding it from now on if her son was anything like her. So he bites his lip to hold back a snicker before he replies cordially, “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.”

Frigga then signals the servant behind her and like a well choreograph dance, the tall blonde elf glides her way to Tony’s left side and curtsy while another servant hands her Tony’s luggage as she train her eyes to the floor.

“Tanna will attend to your needs. The sun sets early here on Alfheim. She will escort you to join us at the dining hall when you are ready. We will see you then.”

With the Queen’s departure, Tanna walks around Tony and pushes the doors open. She then gestures for him to enter while waiting at the threshold. Her manner was all business unlike a few of her fellow servants who seem to be itching with curiosity over the human. He should be grateful he suppose.

Barely making five steps into the room, Tony stops to take it all in. Wow. The room, a paltry use of the word, is naturally well lit from the wide opened balcony that spans one wall of the room and overlooks the ocean. Framing the view, hangs diaphanous silk curtains that droop to the floor. At the middle, a few feet from the railings, sat a green embroidered chaise. Tony can definitely imagine himself lounging the day away and enjoy the view. It feels like home in a way since he had the Malibu mansion newly renovated just for that purpose.

The rest of the room was equally beautiful to admire. The bed, if he would even call it that, looks very much like a scoop out wooden burrow piled on with fur and cream silk beddings. Situated on the opposite wall is a large wooden trunk. Tanna has already placed his belongings next to it. Besides the trunk and closer to the balcony is a vanity with an oval shape mirror and a matching wooden chair. On the other side of the trunk, a few feet away is a large slab of shale, oddly shape but well-polished, place over an egg shape stone base accompanied with two wooden chairs tucked away. A carafe of water and a crystal glass tumbler sat atop it complemented the minimalist chic furnishings.

Tony was still admiring the foreign décor when Tanna addresses him. 

“Prince Anthony, your bath is waiting in the adjoining chamber. I will be preparing your clothes if you should need me.”

Tony feels pressured to bathe until he remembers the large blaring fact that a few of the dignitaries from the other realms seem to have a keen sense of smell amongst other things. The annual summit with most of the representatives from the eight realms and their neighboring allies consists of war plans and negotiations over resources. Any cultural exchange was largely accidental and reluctantly explained except for protocols. Furthermore, facts regarding who’s who in the realms and their history were freely given, along with the assertion that interspecies bonding were sanction and encourage after the war. Steve had surmised it would most likely be up to Tony to act as emissary and make his own observations. Tony though, interpreted his marriage as the first of many for Earth-Realm relations.

Regardless, he must smell horrible or something for them to keep insisting he bathe. And maybe it’s just a weird custom they have. Well, when in Rome as the saying goes.

With a courtesy nod, Tony adjoins to the other room and greatly appreciates that he can close a door behind him for some privacy. Not surprising, the en suite bathroom is very much like the ones from Earth. He supposes there isn’t much variation any bipedal humanoid beings can do for the same basic functions. A low sitting stone toilet with no seat cover is situated at the corner of the room sans toilet paper. Upon a closer look though, Tony sees a spout squirting water at a constant flow. Huh, very much like a bidet. A few feet away from the toilet, is a round granite basin protruding from the wall with water also trickling constantly. Ignoring that for now, the hot bath was prepared in a sunken round river stone tub with a decent size bath towel folded beside it along with an assortment of stone bottles in different sizes and color. The bath looks inviting and roomy, large enough to fit two people perhaps.

Quick as it came, the thought of a still faceless Thor joining him was kick back to the gutter. Tony began to disrobe.

* * *

Squeaky clean and soften from the lightly scented bath oils, Tony now realize he has a problem. Clad in only a bath towel large enough to cover from his waist to mid-thigh, he is all too aware of his defect. After all, the arc reactor is a shiny beacon. If he walks out dress in his uniform, he would probably offend them with his stench again. But if he walks out in only a towel, Tanna would see his glowing chest jewelry. Would the servant girl be horrified? Would she report it the royal family? Would the Alliance be called off? These thoughts aren’t new, just a variation of situations he’s been in. Still it doesn’t erase the fact that he’s self-conscious about it. Only a handful of people had seen it so far. It’s not like S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t informed and the W.S.C. still kept him at the top of their short list of candidates.

Ergo, fake it ‘til you make it.

Tony casually opens the door and walks back into the room with only a quick glance at the waiting servant. Her eyes are downcast. Thank goodness. He sees the native clothes already laid out on the bed and move towards it. The garments seem simple enough. A thick red silk, long sleeve tunic with a mandarin square collar embroidered with gold trimmings. To be worn beneath it is a snug tan leather pants with matching lace-up hunting boots.

So he wears the tunic first. Thankfully, the length hits pass his crotch and a few inches above his knees. Tony quickly drops the towel on the floor before he pulls the pants up his legs. With the lacing done up, the pants sits low at his waist and showcase the V of his Apollo’s belt. He felt indecent wearing that all on its own if not for the tunic covering it. Sitting on the bed, Tony slips on the boots and takes his time lacing them too. Upon finishing, he stands and takes a few steps to move around in his new garments. Surprisingly, they felt good, formfitting without feeling stifling.

Tony does a quick turn around by the vanity before he faces Tanna. Instead of her gaze downcast this time, she looks at him up and down with an appreciative eye of a tailor appraising her work.

“Prince Anthony, we will have most of your new clothes be ready for you in the chest by tomorrow eve. If you would follow me, King Frey is expecting you at the dining hall.”

Hearing that, his stomach rumbles in approval. It reminds Tony that he only ate breakfast and had two shot of whiskey when the day started. There was nothing but butterflies since. Hoping that noise wasn’t heard by the servant, Tony chances another glance and sees a fleeting smile before she reverts back to her business self. Deciding not to comment, Tony merely nods at her to lead the way.

* * *

As far as first impressions go, Thor is freaking huge. Not the overly done Mr. Universe huge or the overdose steroid huge, but through years of honing huge; equally proportioned and not a silly caricature version of a muscled man. He’d thought Captain America is well built but Thor got Steve beat by a few inches everywhere. Tony felt like a dwarf in comparison. And believe him, he’d seen the footage; the description was apt.

The Crown Prince is tall too; he’s six foot six of blond Viking beefcake. He even towers over the already tall elves. Not really what his years of wondering had imagined. He knew about the Viking mythology tie-in to Earth, the whole ancient astronaut theory proven, although, most of the stories were utter nonsense according to one dignitary. But he never imagined this. This is something Tony would have to get over soon. His Betroth isn’t unattractive per se. Thor is a warrior first and foremost despite the Prince wearing what Tony suppose are his civilian clothes. Strong, masculine features well carved through training and living life to the fullest no doubt. An Alpha male if he ever saw one. Tony knows many typical Omegas would have swoon at the sight. Frankly, he doesn’t feel anything near that level. Maybe he _is_ broken.

They are gathered by the raised dais where a large rectangular table cover in a smorgasbord of food fit for a renaissance fair had been lay out. Below the dais, several long rows of tables are lined with elves of all shapes, sizes and colors. Some of the oddest ones are smaller in stature and their facial features resembling cats of all things while a few are blue-skinned. Tony assumes there must be different races of elves just like humans and tries not to gawk. Rather, he tries not to gawk back.

Conversations and general laughter had stopped as soon as he appeared. 

Tony repeats the fist-over-the-heart bow to the Royal family and remembers the protocol mention by one of the dignitaries. He stands at attention and waits to be acknowledged.

Queen Frigga gave him a nod to come forward and Tony makes the trip with some trepidation. The closer he got, the more intimidating Thor seem. Had he established that his Betroth is freaking huge?

“Brother. Thor. I would present you, Prince Anthony Stark of Midgard.”

Tony nods his head in deference to both, takes a deep breath, and finally makes eye contact. Thor is nervously smiling back at him and he suddenly has the feeling that this marriage thing might just work out. He could do this.


	4. Courting, Trial by Error

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 12/13/16
> 
> There's a certain quote taken from the Sherlock Holme's A Game of Shadows movie. See if you can recognize it.

Tony’s official debut to the court of Alfheim as Thor Odinson’s Betroth certainly felt like being crowned king and queen of the prom. Not that he'd ever went. Being at both the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy and taking classes at M.I.T. since the age of fourteen tends to dampen party time especially after Uncle Steve took over his life. Not that he would ever complain about that, better Steve then Obadiah any day. Actually, Tony didn’t want to think about that traitor.

The announcement by King Frey kicks off the feast with raucous approval from the crowd like it was Sunday night football. The few shout outs that Tony manage to understand altogether brought the colors back in his cheeks and that seem to encourage the crowd’s excitement. Surprisingly as soon as King Frey gave the signal to sit down, the noise eventually dies down to conversation level. It reminded him very much of being in a large cafeteria full of strange people.

The food before him smelled heavenly, though Tony isn’t too keen to sate his rumbling belly just yet. It wasn't because he's afraid to eat extraterrestrial food and chance a bug endangering his gastro intestines. Assuming that is, there was no reason to poison him outright. No, he’s always been adventurous to try something new as long as it’s cooked thoroughly, case in point, the shawarma he had for breakfast before he arrived. 

What stalls him at first is that he wasn't able to recognize what some of the meat and vegetables were. However, what really threw him off is that all of the people present are using just a dagger as both a knife and a fork along with using their bare hands to eat, even the royal family.

Tony had just assumed too many utensils and lengthy rules of conduct for a meal. Like that one time he had to attend a charity dinner hosted by the Prince of Monaco following the Grand Prix race Stark Industries sponsored. Knowing him, Steve had forbidden Tony to race but it had been a nightmare all the same. What, with a villain by the name of Vanko with a grudge against Howard (of course) coming out of the woodwork and destroying cars and property left and right. Despite his Mark V being totaled at the end, he managed to stop the guy at least.

That night, during the sixth course of the very proper and stuffy dinner, Tony made his excuse to the men’s room. Due to the media coverage that day, it had apparently made some people think that Iron Man was down for the count. So, some shmuck managed to corner Tony alone (in the john of all places) and tried to force a bond. The poor guy hadn't stand a chance because Steve Rogers was like a mother hen and hound dog all in one. Apparently the Captain had flown all the way to Monaco from who knows where mission and came charging in to protect Tony’s chastity all because he was worried. Not that Steve knew Tony needed the saving. He hadn't. Tony isn't just any Omega who would succumb to a slight show of dominant behavior. Though he could say the same of Steve Rogers, but that's a different story.

So, when in Rome. Right. Tentatively, he dug in and tastes each new entity like a scientific experiment for his palate. By all means, Tony isn’t a dainty eater. If it is a good old American cheeseburger, he would dive in like a starve dog on a juicy bone. However, he’s at a foreign planet in a room full of alien bipeds whose chowing down like this is their last meal. Tony hopes it isn’t.

Call it paranoia or curiosity, but his eyes and ears are actively scanning the room and cataloging the gestures and snippets of conversation. Interestingly enough, he only caught a few words that sounded like English wherein earlier he was able to understand their dirty jokes perfectly. Tony remembered coming across the term AllSpeak in some of the transcripts posted by the summit. Is it a universal translator? If so, hardware or software base? Or is that only inherit to these alien races?

It wasn’t the only thing he's been curious about. The Bifrost has been the biggest mystery to him hands down. Imagine—no, not imagine. Tony _had_ traverse an Einstein-Rosen bridge in what felt like five seconds. How astounding was that? A controlled wormhole, not the quantum foam mechanics Wheeler had theorized. And the Asgardians apparently use it like whistling for a taxi by calling out one word. How does that even work? Would he be able to use it again or was it a one-off?

Just think of all the science he could unravel while—

“Anthony? Does something trouble you?”

And he is suddenly brought back down to Alfheim. Oh, right. Public dinner with the soon-to-be in-laws and his future hus—uh, spouse.

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine. Good even. Yes?”

For some reason, his rapid response seems to have both Frigga and Thor in a stitch. Well, as politely as royalty would show it. King Frey merely shakes his head at the other two and flashes Tony a fond smirk.

Frigga leans over toward her son and loudly stage whispers, “Did I not tell you, Thor?”

Whether intentional or not, Thor’s response isn’t so measured, “Yes, truly remarkable, mother. It shall not be too difficult to bond with Anthony since they are so similar.”

Great. Tony’s the butt of an inside joke. Apparently they weren’t going to elaborate since Thor's grin was much too smug before he drains his cup, then smashes the poor thing on the floor, hard enough to dent it. That crash didn’t make Tony jump as much as the shout that came after.

“Another!”

What the hell! 

Okay. So Thor has two settings: loud and louder.

The servant attending the Crown Prince quickly places another cup down before retrieving the dent one as if it is common practice. Perhaps it is. Tony scans the room just to confirm the weird custom and find none else doing the same.

Okay. So Thor has barbaric tendencies.

Tony shot Frigga a glance and didn’t sense any disapproval. On the contrary, she’s totally ignoring it like everyone else.

Okay. So maybe it’s a Thor’s thing. When drunk?

Upon second thought, Tony decides to heed caution and follow a leaf from Steve Rogers' Boy Scout rule book. He signaled for a server and Tanna conveniently appears. He makes his request quietly for water instead. His servant...is she his servant now? She is pretty quick considering the cup isn’t there one moment and a blink later it was. Huh. He murmurs his thanks. As always, Tanna does a little head bob curtsy and walks back into her corner somewhere.

Okay. So maybe Tanna _is_ his personal servant. He could get use to that.

“You need not worry, Anthony. Tis a vile Asgardian habit you will learn to ignore as my sister has.”

Even though King Frey delivers the comment with affection, Tony doesn't miss the sarcasm. And Frigga visibly ignores it while Thor does the same or rather seem oblivious to it. He files that little info away for later.

Okay. So it isn’t just a Thor’s thing but an Asgardian one. Tony kind of figured the Viking reference merits a part somewhere.

“How do you find Alfheim?”

Now this was familiar territory. Not necessarily his forte just yet but public conversation with a tinge of wit and charm he can handle in spades.

“Beyond my imagination actually. Back on Midgard, even our most inspired artists can’t capture what I’ve seen so far. It would be nice to have a tour of the place.”

Pleased with Tony's remark, the King nods his assent.

“And so you shall. You will find Alfheim to be a peaceful Realm. We pride ourselves to be scholars and nurturers of the world around us. Tanna shall be more than sufficient to be your guide.”

Off to the side, Tony can see that even singled out his servant isn’t fazed one bit. “I thank you for the honor, your High—"

Thor didn’t allow Tanna to finish when he interjects sharply, “With most of the sentries disperse throughout the outer rim, there has been reported rumors of marauders roaming freely about the eight realms. A mere servant girl cannot be enough to protect a Prince of Midgard, Uncle.”

King Frey narrows his eyes, “She is an apprentice of Astrid the Wise, as was your brother briefly one time or other. If these so-called marauders accomplish the feat to slid through our shields undetected, Tanna is more than sufficient.”

With nostrils flaring, Thor is relentless towards his call for safety. However, Tony has a strong feeling they were rehashing a stick at a nest full of hornets.

“She is not a Prince of Asgard trained as a warrior in the art of combat. Her protection is nothing compare to the superior might of—“

“Thor.”

Wow, was that intense. Frigga certainly knows how to cut the atmosphere back down to simmering. The crowd in the dining hall even quieted down, took stock, and noticed.

“Why not escort Anthony yourself? Thus, you may protect him, get to know each other, and Anthony may tour Alfheim at his leisure.”

Tongue-tied perhaps with the sudden change, Thor’s word came out slowly at first, “I…am not… well-traveled with Alfheim as Loki but I know just the place.”

Apparently satisfied with Frigga’s masterful resolution, the merriment resumes as if nothing alarming took place. Even King Frey went back to eating and conversing quietly with his sister. Thor, warm-up by now to the idea, sends Tony an invite that brook no argument, “We shall leave on the morrow after we break our fast.”

Okay. So Thor is highhanded and has a superiority complex.

Oh fuck.

* * *

Safe in his nest (Tony still refuses to call it a bed) he tries to forget the last couple of hours. It had been a very long lunner or was it dunch? Thor going head to head with King Frey was the highlight of the night apparently. What came after were the medieval entertainment equivalent of minstrels, dancers (none exotic unfortunately), and juggling acts. In other words, mediocre and leaving Tony wanting to call it a night early despite Frigga’s attempts to create one-on-one time for the new couple. She even went as far as to suggest Thor escort Tony to his room.

Nowhere near ready for that kind of intimacy with the big guy, Tony decidedly pulls out all the stops to claim exhaustion and soon his excuses has affect. King Frey gave him permission to leave.

p>Grateful for the reprieve Tony hurries after Tanna and soon reaches his quarters. He tries dismissing her at the door despite her insistence to help him to bed, which is weird considering. Another custom, perhaps? He relents of course because Tanna even looks like Pepper when stubborn. By the time Tony completes his bathroom ritual, she already has his sheets turned down and the curtains drawn. Before she finally leaves, she does insist on helping him dress tomorrow morning for his trip with Thor.

Now that he’s alone, Tony slowly lowers his mental blockage and quietly cries with thoughts of his pack mates giving him little comfort. It was a long time before he succumbs to sleep.

* * *

Surprisingly, after a night of good crying, Tony is up and about with renewed excitement. He even did his P.T. to excise some of it. A good run would have done it, but his options are limited to his room and the hallways. After today though, he is certain that finding a scenic trail would be easy. 

True to her words, Tanna arrives on his doorway at the crack of dawn. He can tell that she is pleased in spite of her frown at first then resume her always-present stoic expression.

“Good morrow, Prince Anthony.”

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Without any comment to that, she presents him his garments for the day. It looks more complicated than the outfit from yesterday. Although the low black leather pants are the same, it’s now paired with black knee high riding boots, a gray swaying pirate-looking tunic worn under a fitted black leather vest with silver accents. Black leather arm braces and a wide belt around his waist completed the look. Tony gave himself a look-see at the vanity and stares. And stares some more.

“I look like a L.A.R.P. attendee. All I’m missing is a long bow and a sword.”

Confused at first, Tanna takes him seriously of course.

“If that is your wish, Prince Anthony. I can take you to the armory and have the Smithy loan you one until he completes your commission?”

“You mean there’s a forge here? With a blacksmith? I can have weapons? Made just for me? Ooh, can I watch him work?”

Despite his rapid-fire childlike questions, her look totally screams _‘duh, of course we got one’_ and ended with _‘why would you want to do that’_ with his last comment. Tanna may not be smiling yet, but Tony thinks at least he’s making headway to warming her up to him.

“Aye, but first you must break your fast with Prince Thor. I will speak with the Smithy on your behalf and summon him upon your return.”

Deflated upon hearing that, Tony is suddenly reminded of last night’s argument over Tanna. She’s more than a servant apparently and is in charge of Tony’s care. This makes her all the more interesting.

“Tanna, when you have time, I would like you to escort me around Alfheim.”

“But Prince Thor has taken upon himself to do so; I do not wish to impugn his duty.”

Tony literally and figuratively waves her excuse away with his hand.

“According to what was said, Prince Thor will show me the _little_ he knows of Alfheim. I want to know more than the little. I want a local’s point of view. So please, would you be my tour guide?”

Huh. How about that? Tony managed to make the ever stoic Tanna blush like he just proposed to her. Score one for the genius.

“Well, I… as you wish, Prince Anthony. Now if you would please follow me?”

* * *

Breakfast was apparently some leftovers from last night made into a stew. It wasn’t bad, much heavier than Tony is used to. He wants caffeine and would marry Thor in an instant if he brought him a cup of joe. However, what the Crown Prince did brought Tony to was a horse. With eight legs. 

“Meet Sleipnir, the finest in Odin’s stables. Father has bid me to take charge of him while I am here in hopes that he impregnate the mares on Alfheim and produce a finer steed.”

Tony blanches from the statement. Is that a euphemism for their courtship? Is this Thor’s way of flirting? Oh, holy Einstein. Tony wants to crawl to a corner and whimper.

Shaking himself from such thoughts, he slowly blinks the seconds away before commenting offhandedly.

“I don’t mean to be blunt, but isn’t Sleipnir your nephew?”

That did the trick. Oh, the look on Thor’s face. A beat later, the big guy is laughing so hard he actually wipes his eyes of the tears. It took several moments but the Prince finally manages to find his voice.

“I…I did not know that old slander withstood the times so well! Oh, to see my brother’s face when he hears this! You must bring it up again as casually as you wont when you meet him. He would be so furious with me for starting it.”

Okay. So Thor is a bully. Steve Rogers would not approve. Tony suddenly feels sorry for this Loki. He must had a rough childhood.

Still full of mirth though, Thor directs him to the next stall and introduces him to a beast of a warhorse name Ofrid. The chestnut stallion stomps his foot and snorts loudly. Tony rather sits this one out actually.

“You know what, it’s a fine day. Let’s walk to wherever we’re going.”

Cue the raised brow from Thor however.

“Tis two leagues from here in a bilgesnipe infested terrain. I rather not.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to raise a brow.

“What’s a bilgesnipe?”

“The Bilgesnipe, you know; huge, scaly, big antlers. You do not have those?”

How cute, Thor even pantomimes the features. Still, what the fuck?

“Don’t think so.”

“They _are_ repulsive, and they trample everything in their path.”

Thor only shrugs and moves to saddle the beast Ofrid. Hoping to nip this notion in the bud, Tony finally speaks up bluntly about it.

“Look, I know how to ride a horse. Just not very good at it. They are dangerous on both ends and crafty in the middle.”

“You are… afraid? Of a horse?”

Yes. Inconceivable judging by Thor’s lack of censure. Tony gesture with his hand for an acceptable level, “Do you have something lower?”

“Lower?” Thor says it like the word tasted foul and his frown intensifies.

“All the horses even the mares on average are of this size except… I would not recommend a foal for you. They are much too young to be ridden.”

Then literally as if a light bulb lit above his head, the Prince brightens up with a megawatt smile. Thor makes a grab at Tony’s waist and manhandles him onto Sleipnir.

“Hey!”

Before Tony could voice further objections especially at being manhandled, Thor hoists himself up behind him and secures those beefy arms around Tony’s waist once more. This is not what he had in mind. Though Tony soon find himself lost for words as he holds on for dear life when Thor canters the stallion out of the stables and into a full gallop towards the forest.

* * *

If someone was to ask Tony later about this date, he would comment at some point, it was all a blur.

The Red Cockerel is a tavern at the outskirts of a large villa by the coast apparently. And no, Tony had not heard Thor wrong the first time he was informed of the name of the place. Unfortunately, the name reflected Tony's low opinion of the place. It was a seedy hole in the wall with the expected drama period spattering of prostitutes, sailors perhaps, and dangerous looking aliens from other realms. Practically, a bar fight waiting to happen.

Thor is beaming from ear to ear when he orders two large tankard of mead for the both of them and directs (notice manhandles) Tony to sit at an open table by the wall, directly below the head of a huge beast-like creature with antlers mounted on it. He fleetingly wonders whether that was bilgesnipe. when a fight does break out and stops as suddenly as it starts with the troublemakers being kicked out by a burly bouncer slash waiter. This send off was soon followed by a cheer from all the patrons. Thor included.

Okay. So this is Thor’s idea of a good time.

After being manhandled most of the way, made even more uncomfortable with the wall of muscles at his back and forced into such company without seeing much of anything so far, Tony decides that he deserves a drink. Maybe it’ll help numb the pain in his thighs from being on horseback and the weird date they're having.

Halfway through one tankard, Thor has already finished his and threw the cup down for another. A hussy slash waitress brings him one and promptly throws herself onto the big guy's lap. She seems familiar with the Prince. Tony may or may not have been jealous, it was too early to be attached and hard to blame the guy when he finds himself in the same situation. Only he’s been pulled onto some strange creature's lap. Never mind that Tony objected to be treated like so much commodity. The blue-gray alien is huge, a good three feet taller than even Thor maybe and smell like he hasn’t taken a bath in months. Tony must have blacked out from the stench or maybe the alcohol because next thing he knew Thor upended the table and throws a punch at the alien giant with a huge mean smirk plastered on his lips.

Okay. So Thor likes to have a good brawl. Tony is totally not fine with that and promptly faints.

* * *

When he came to, Tony wakes up in his own room smelling like puke and has a wet towel on his forehead. Tanna immediately helps him up and slips him some water. Only it isn’t water. It tastes bitter at first and leaves a sweet flavor on his tongue.

“This will help with the nausea. When you are ready, Queen Frigga wishes to speak with you.”

In hopes it is about calling off the marriage, he tells Tanna to send for her.

Half an hour later, after making himself presentable for royalty despite feeling like shit warm over, Tony sets the stage on the chaise. Frigga waits for no announcement and walks up and daintily sits down right at the foot of the furniture.

“How are you feeling, my dear?”

Tony tries for humor in spite of his throat feeling like sandpaper. “Like I was hit by a bilgesnipe.”

She cracks a smile but her face remains worried. “I must apologize for Thor’s choice of affairs. He rarely visits Alfheim even when his brother stayed for tutoring. And when he does visit, tis with the Warriors Three. Their idea of sport is much different than is common practice.”

In other words, he interprets that to mean Thor and his pack mates are a bunch of Viking hooligans. Not what Tony has in mind to be a part of. His disgust must have shown on his face. Frigga is quick to play devil’s advocate however.

“Thor means well and thinks the best of situations. Please reserve judgment after you get to know him better? I had words with him as well as had his brother. He is contrite and wishes to make amends. You will find a different Thor at your feet.”

Is he ready to throw the Alliance to the winds? Tony hasn’t forgotten about the ramifications.

Hesitantly, he finds himself nodding in agreement. This brought much relief to her demeanor and Frigga broke out into a full smile.

“After you break fast in the morrow, your courtship will begin anew. Rest well, Anthony.”

* * *

Tony is wary of Thor. 

As promised, he met the Crown Prince on the terrace landing site he arrived at. The big guy did look contrite and embarrassed.

Good, he thought, up until Thor doesn’t stop walking till he’s in Tony’s personal space. He would have taken a few steps back but that would land him over the cliff. He has nowhere to run and reluctantly admires the Prince’s choice of strategic location.

“Prince Anthony Stark of Midgard, I have wronged you. If you wish to seek recompense for my slight I will do so without hesitation. In time, my wish is to secure your good will and hope you would grant me your hand in marriage.”

Wow. After what was said, Tony felt their little disaster of a date didn’t merit such a declaration. Yeah, it was pretty bad but to seek recompense? Whatever context that means, he has no intention of doing so. And yeah, the apology is a little flowery but given the Shakespeare in the park vibe, Tony digs it. Even in his mother’s drapery, what would the cape and all, the big guy is sporting the full armored regalia. Which makes him wonder, does Thor go into every situation like a battle? Perhaps he does. It means he means business.

Okay. So yeah, Tony is impressed.

Thor is honest, straightforward and apparently what you see is what you get. No beating around the bush with this one. Sure, his other negative attributes still stand but Tony can work with that he supposed.

“Alright, big guy. Let’s give this courting thing another go. What do you have plan for today?”

And if Tony is starting to be a little less annoyed by Thor’s megawatt smile, no one needs to know.

“I have a few people I would introduce you to... if you will permit me? But first, I understand you would like to visit the forge?”


	5. Interlude: The Consult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 12/14/16

Loki always knows when Thor is approaching. 

There is a difference of course to the prelude, foul or fair. Were it foul, tis very much like a storm brewing. The once clear sky darkens, clouds gather, and the first strike of lightning heralds his entry. In contrast, were it fair, the sky would brighten, clouds are swept away, and the air static with electricity.

A flash of light and the distant rumble of thunder set the mood for Thor’s reception. Tis fortunate then, Loki has not been stirring any plots of late. Well, not against Thor at least. He has much bigger plans to embroil. Rarely, does he feel any trepidation towards his brother’s visits. However, he is not so foolish as to let his guard down either.

The doors to his study burst open. The mighty Thor stomps his way in. Loki remains seated at his desk, pretending to be nonplus about his brother’s entry and continues scanning the several tomes of books laid out. It does not mean Loki did not dart his eyes upwards to take account of Thor. His brother has chosen to retain his leather vest but sans cape and Mjolnir; must have been out riding no doubt. Although, his linens are torn in a few places and his leathers are scuffed. Ah, a fight as well. What is peculiar though, is the expression on Thor’s countenance: tis a cross between frustration and resignation.

Knowing where his brother was supposed to be and seeing him here, this may prove entertaining. Loki has detected no malice towards his own person, so he remains distant from his brother’s approach. Best not play too interested has always been his mantra.

Thor always did find ways to get his attention though. Unhappy from being ignored, his brother plops down heavily on the wooden chair opposite of Loki and lifts his log-size legs onto the desk; dirty boots with mud and all, atop his precious books. He glares at his brother whilst Thor only raises a brow in return.

Loki prepares himself for what most likely be another of Thor’s rants. These meetings tend to be almost always one-sided. If Loki is to be heard, he would need to consult his own mother. He did not mind though, it only means he can steer his brother however which way he wants with Thor oftentimes none the wiser.

“Aye, brother?”

Thor brightens upon hearing that, just like Loki thought he would.

“How goes your task?”

Avoiding the issue, a sure indication of a guilty conscious if he ever saw one. Loki relents for now. He makes a point to push Thor’s muddy boots off the books.

“These tomes are older than you Thor, have care.”

Having gotten his way, his brother lowers his feet and slouches low on the chair with his thighs wide spread; a vulgar display of Alpha body language if he ever saw one. Loki pretends it did not annoy him out of habit. He carefully closes the books and sends them back to the library with a wave of his fingers unveiling a large leather map beneath. There are marks and notes all over the hide. He then gestures to the map.

“Considering I have been working on it for nigh a century, most would say tis a hopeless endeavor.”

The brothers sat in comfortable silence for a moment contemplating the issues, until Thor chances a hopeful look at Loki.

“Have you considered granting father a reprieve in return for his assistance?”

This time, Loki drops the facade and releases his annoyance full force. Like always, the subject brings back the raw memories even after so many years.

“Odin has withheld my true nature and inheritance for nigh a millennium. I will not grant him the satisfaction of knowingly becoming his pawn: just another relic in the weapons vault. I do this my way or not at all.”

He is up and pacing about. It never fails to put him in high dudgeon whenever Odin is mention.

“Loki, you have forgiven mother and I for our transgressions have you not? You are a Prince of Asgard _still_. Why must you remain stubborn regarding father?”

It would seem Thor has resume to champion Odin’s cause even now. It still hurts Loki knowing that if Odin asks Thor to jump, his brother will only ask how high.

“I call you brother, do I not? Wherein mother loves me unconditionally, Odin gives niceties to falsehood. Must you remain his champion, even here? Tis my sanctuary you have invaded.”

He could not hold back the bitterness even if he tried; tis an old shirt Loki wore well. He stops his pacing and faces his brother waiting for a response.

“I do not wish to fight you and I would not even if father demands it. Unless, of course, you commit something atrocious or try to begin Ragnorok, then I have no choice in the matter.”

Oh, that again! He knows Thor spoke in jest however Loki is tired of hearing it. He is the master of his own history-making from now on.

“There is no Balder the Brave in the Book of Records, Thor. Hela has confirmed it. Must you always paint me the villain?”

Thor now raises both hands to placate him, his posture in supplicant. Grudgingly, Loki is sooth by the deference, just a little even though he remains annoyed still. 

“Calm down, brother. My purpose here is not to offend or to champion. I came for your counsel.”

Alas, the truth! Loki moves back to his chair. He has a feeling this might get lengthy judging by how long Thor had put off his true intentions. He leans forward on the desk, props an arm up and braces his chin on his fist.

“I thought as much. What have you done now, Thor?”

Tis rare indeed when the mighty Thor actually looks apologetic.

“I think I may have offended my Betroth. At least that is what mother tells me.”

Ah, yes! Loki had placed bets with Lady Sif and the Warriors Three for how long it would take Thor to seek counsel. Despite the Lady Sif insisting that the mighty Thor does not fail at any task, she had readily set her marker with the others. Suffice it to say, Loki won. He set to scribe the meeting as proof. Discretely, of course.

“Indeed? Less than a day? This I must hear!”

Thor sends him a look as if he might regret this later, he probably would.

“I know not where to start.”

Stalling for time once more, it must have been a great offense to warrant such tactics. Loki tries to rein in his mischievous smirk and fails.

“Try the beginning, Thor.”

Knowing the battle is lost his brother releases a sigh and began his tale.

“Aye. I did not know what to expect upon meeting him, but Anthony is… tiny.”

Loki could not help it, but chuckle he did. Oh, he has very good indication where this was going. Thor only shakes his head in warning to cease commentary until he is finished. Loki cannot promise more than a half shrug.

“Aye, tiny. The top of his head reaches my chest—"

“Good for embracing.”

Thor gives him a look for cutting him off, but Loki’s wide-eye demeanor could not fool anyone.

“He is muscular, but compact—"

“A fit and healthy body type I hear that is very popular in Midgard.”

His brother pauses again but gives up and resumes when Loki continues to serve him the same doe eyes.

“His features: a chisel jaw, eyes a deep set brown as is his hair, define cheekbones, straight nose, a sun warmed complexion and full lips—"

“Ah, masculine yet sultry; an ideal combination for an Omega is he not?”

“Aye, but he seem so delicate, I fear of breaking him—“

It was such a strange issue to complain about, that Loki could not help but express his disbelief.

“You are aware that the Ambassador described your Betroth as not only a renown warrior of his generation but also an unmatched scholar since their Renaissance? You could not break him easily.”

“I do not see how.”

Loki raises a brow at that comment and points to himself as an example. 

“Aye, you have demonstrated your mettle one too many times throughout the centuries for anyone to discredit your prowess. Tis your use of magic in combination that many finds foul.”

That again.

“You too, I remember. However, there was the time in Nornheim—“

“Where I have fought my way through a hundred warriors and pulled us out alive—"

Aye. Loki can see how annoying it was to be interjected.

“As I recall, I was the one who veiled us in smoke to ease our escape.”

“Some do battle, others just do tricks.”

Loki’s eyes narrow and he retorts instead, “Next time I would not be so magnanimous and escape myself. Would you last before I send for help I wonder?”

Thor immediately realize his mistake and placates once more.

“Probably, but have peace, brother. I mean you no slight.”

In the past, Loki may have kept close account to all the wrongs Thor had dealt him, but he finds it easier to feed his rage and let it stew instead.

“Tis forgotten. You are hedging again.”

With a nod, Thor begins again.

“Aye. The feast was in full bloom when….”

* * *

Tis nearly an hour later when Thor completes his account in spite of Loki's purposeful and frequent interjections. By the end of it he had Loki in stitches. It is a long while before he was able to control his laughter.

“Oh brother, what folly to commit one offense after another!”

Thor has never taken to be ridiculed by others as easily as he would have being the instigator. This, Loki knows. However he felt vindicated by this rare incident all the same. Although, judging by his brother’s growing lack of patience, Loki decides to enlighten him quickly.

“Midgardians consider themselves to be refine individuals with their complicated rules of engagement. Your Asgardian habits must have alarm him I am sure. However that can be overlooked. Thank the Norns he was not in heat; that could have been a disaster. Your greatest offense is dismissing his fear of horses and breaching tradition by riding with you on Sleipnir. ”

He gave Thor a moment to take it in, however typical of the oaf, his reply says it all.

“I do not see how that is?”

This is important. Although Loki cannot say that he is a champion for all Omegas, or for this instant, Thor’s Betroth, however he _can_ say this is a chance to teach his brother a lesson.

“Did he submit to you? Given you any indication to approach him intimately? To allow your scent to mark him?”

His brother remains silent, mulling over the day’s event. Suddenly he vacates his chair and runs a hand through his hair. Frustration clearly written all over his features when he raises a hand to gesture widely.

“That is the crux, brother. I cannot tell. He has behaved strangely cordial throughout our courtship. His appetite dainty; his presence fleeting; his comments, while humorous are non-personal; his body language distant and his scent absent.”

Hmm. Tis a problem indeed. Loki has some inkling on how to resolve this, but he needs more detail.

“What was his reaction to you, with your close proximity on Sleipnir?”

Thor pause his steps and turn to face Loki. His face pinched in remembrance.

“His back was stiff the entire time, did not relax against me at all. He was completely silent as well.”

Loki shakes his head upon coming to a conclusion, but he wants Thor to remember this so he tells him to recount further.

“And what was Prince Anthony’s reaction to the Alpha troll who forced him on its lap? The beast's scent must have been overwhelming, aye?”

It finally dawns on Thor when he gasp at his discovery. Tis about time, Loki thought.

“What must I do to rectify this mistake?”

Tis times like this that Loki feels truly superior to Thor. This kind of advice he would give freely since the chances of it coming back to bite him is slim to none. Thor’s Betroth can thank him later.

“First apologize, mayhap even grovel a bit. Also you may do well by Tanna, perhaps you will find her to be a strong ally in wooing your Betroth. Then introduce him to your pack. It may provide Prince Anthony some comfort to know them, although a little goes a long way. And be sure to keep Fandral a sword’s throw away.”

For the first time since the Thunderer arrived, a smile of genuine relief graces his face. His brother moved to embrace him and Loki allows it.

“I thank you, Loki. You should vacate this tower and come down and meet him. I think the two of you would make great friends. I will send for Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. We could have our grand adventures again.”

Before Thor could finish his invite, Loki is already shaking his head in negation.

“I no longer belong to your pack, brother; although it would be remiss of me to snub the introduction of the future Royal Consort of Asgard. Very well, in a fortnight I shall do so. That should give you enough time to secure your Betroth prior to introducing another unattached Alpha to the scene once more.”

Satisfied with his response, Thor beamed with approval and Loki could not help but feel valued. Old habits were hard to kill apparently.

“And I hold you to it.”


	6. Dog Days in Alfheim, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 12/14/16

When Tony was barely a year old, after a routine blood test, his parents found out about the results from the New York Post rather than his pediatrician. Typical of Howard, his father sued the newspaper, the doctor and the blood clinic but the damage was already done. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak. Play dates with prominent families became mergers and takeovers. Howard was really good at baiting without promising Tony to the highest bidder. For years, speculation on the future of Stark Industries was a regular headline. Never mind that Tony built his first circuit board at age four and his first engine at age six.

In vain, Tony labored to impress his father like Captain America did, to see beyond his Omega status as leverage. He didn’t want to be paraded about and be some Alpha’s trophy. It turned out, when the World Security Council came knocking, Howard didn’t accept anything less for his son than an alien Prince and exclusive rights to advance technology. He was nine when his father made the deal as sole source to the Alliance and kept the trade secrets close to his vest. 

By the time he turned eleven, Stark Industries was already on the cutting edge, but the Proclamation contract put the company on the bleeding edge of technology, twenty years ahead of its time. The company’s success only pushed the greedy Board of Directors headed by Obadiah Stane to hunger for more and made Tony’s gilded cage smaller. 

Facing false claims, coerced bonds, and attempted kidnapping became a regularity. The few classmates he had were suspect, his mentors as easy pundits, and pack mates became nonexistent. He couldn’t trust anyone and wasn’t allowed to form any type of bond even if he wanted to due to Howard’s iron control.

So to hear Thor’s request made Tony feel all kinds of unease. What a novelty to have an Alpha ask him his preference. The big guy must have talked to Tanna even though the other day Thor was ragging on her for being just a lowly servant. Granted Tony hadn't specify her to be discreet about their interactions, he should have said something. It only proves to trust no one. The only silver lining is that at least Thor cares enough to find out what he likes this time.

They were heading to the Royal stables again when imagine his surprise, Thor bypass the stalls and leads Tony down toward the open pasture. He had assume they would need to travel to the forge and Tony rather get on a horse again verses having the Smithy come to him as Tanna had plan. So this, this was unexpected. Two mammoth goats (or were they rams?), about two-thirds the size of Sleipnir stood grazing beneath a gnarled looking tree.

Thor walks right up to them and starts petting their sides with familiarity and affection. A broad smile spans his face when the pair bleats loudly in return, “Meet Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjostr.”

Being not very fond of animals of any sort, Tony kept his distance. He vaguely remembers reading about them, but the words are too foreign for him to even try pronouncing. He says instead, “Um, translation please?”

“Toothgnasher and Toothgrinder, I raised them since they were little.”

Odd names but so is everyone else here. Tony only got a summary of J.A.R.V.I.S.' condense compilation of Norse myths seeing as how it wasn’t even recommended by some of the dignitaries as factual resource. He’d seen for himself, Queen Frigga or Freyja seems to be one and the same person like a few scholars has surmised. Also Loki is the son of Odin and not his brother. These mythical beings whose influenced a portion of human culture are just long lived aliens. Not gods. Tony has no problem differentiating the misnomer and looks forward to seeing more of their technology instead. So far, he’s not that impress by the medieval backdrop with the exception of the Bifrost and AllSpeak. Even meeting a few varieties of alien species hasn’t really floated his boat quite as much as probably Bruce would have if they were to switch places.

Unsure of what the protocol for meeting pets were, he gave a cursory wave at them and comments awkwardly, “Nice pets.”

Tony wonders whether the part about Thor using them for food and conveniently reviving them with a magic hammer is true. He has yet to see or heard about the mythical hammer in fact. It is written that Thor, the thunder god, and the hammer are inseparable. At this point, Tony chalks that part up to a writer’s fanciful embellishment.

When Thor disappears briefly back into the stables, then brought out an armful of harness and begins to tack up one of the goats, a suspicious thought set in, “I hope you don’t mean for me to ride one of them?”

The big guy only pauses for a moment before he continues his task.

“I have considered when last we spoke you have wanted lower—erm a smaller creature to ride upon. Alas, they are as mischievous as my brother,” Thor says in all seriousness.

He then explains to Tony’s puzzled expression, “They bite.”

Since he considers biting goats to be much more dangerous than falling off freakishly tall horses, relief was in short order. Tony had meant that question as a partial joke but it has been hit or miss with the big guy. However, he couldn’t help but chuckle at Thor’s own words. It probably wasn’t meant to be funny. 

At his reaction, Thor looks curiously at Tony before stating, “No riding this day, mayhap when you are more acquainted. Instead, they often pull my chariot. Would they meet your approval?”

A chariot drive à la Ben Hur style?

“Hell yeah!”

* * *

It took them less than a half hour to arrive at what looks like the gates of Mordor built flush against the bottom of a cliff, not far from the waterfall Tony saw when he first arrived on the stone terrace. By his estimate of the distance, it should have taken the goats several hours. That is if they were traveling at whatever stands for average speed for goats. Tony estimated ten miles an hour at best. Apparently Thor’s pets has his Bugatti beat without even breaking a sweat. And Tony hadn't arrived wind chapped either, although the passing scenery was a blur. Now that he’d thought about it, the trip to the coast on Sleipnir felt pretty much the same.

Considering what he’s seen, Tony begins to see why Asgard's Viking culture is stagnating. They have a Bifrost wormhole that eliminates building space ships for large-scale travel; animals that can move and respond faster than any vehicle for small-scale travel; and AllSpeak to overcome any language barriers. If he is to deduce, the forge would probably be a combo of advance and old school as well. Which makes hiring Earth for the Alliance needs makes sense. Humans practically pioneered the art of mass production.

And from what Tony’s read between the lines, what is seen as a problem on Earth is actually a plus to other Realms. With such long life spans, the evolutionary need to procreate must be genetically muted. Although this doesn’t explain the natural order of Alpha, Beta, and Omegas being retain in their genetic makeup. Social scientists would deduce asexuality as an eventuality if that is the case, so it must be something else. What it does explain is that their population growth must also be stagnating as well, in which their Council’s agenda to encourage inter-species bonding initiated via Thor makes sense; a larger gene pool is needed to replenish their stock so to speak. How S.H.I.E.L.D. would spin this after the galactic war should be interesting to witness. Come to think of it, most likely it would involve Tony pregnant with an alien baby as a spokesperson. Wonderful.

Upon their arrival, the gates immediately open and Thor lightly pulls the rein to stop the massive goats at the front courtyard. The Prince jumps down first and raise both hands up towards Tony and caught himself from going further. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Tony nods his consent and Thor beams up at him before lifting him down.

An elder looking cat-elf with tawny coloring, very much like a humanoid version of Garfield minus the potbelly and Cheshire grin, greets both Princes with the usual hand over heart bow. Though Tony does notice that the bow isn’t very formal or very low. In fact, the old elf looks altogether put out. To Tony the scenario seems weird too, especially with such a large operation. He expected the place to be bustling with elf-folks and maybe even a dwarf or two.

“Greetings Prince Thor and welcome to Onollo or simply Stone Cliff, Prince Anthony Stark of Midgard. Prince Loki has sent a missive before your arrival and as much as we appreciate a good warning, I hope you understand how much this visit delays the war efforts?”

Definitely grumpy elf is speaking to Thor on that count. Wow, disrespectful and chiding a Prince no less. Tony likes the guy already. Thor on the other hand, judging by that frown, does not.

“Know your place, Mortan. We shall not take long. Anthony has expressed an interest to tour the Royal Forge and wish to make a request. See that tis done.”

Those old resentful eyes pierce Tony with their gaze. Not wanting to be associated with Thor’s arrogance, Tony sneaks a peak at Thor and rolled his eyes for effect. Mortan snorts in response while his Betroth remain oblivious.

“Very well. Come, Prince Anthony. I have given the workers an hour off. You look like a person who will ask many questions. Let us make haste. There is much to see and many grounds to cover.”

When Thor makes no move to follow them, Tony stops and turn around to inquire, “Aren’t you coming?”

It is only polite, since this is supposed to be their second date. The Prince is already tending to his pet goats when he wave Tony off, “I am quite familiar with Onollo and I suspect Mortan will be much more forthcoming with answers were I to remain scarce. I trust that no harm is to come upon my Betroth.”

That definitely isn’t a question and not meant for him obviously. He’d probably get a better reception with Tanna. The old cat-elf merely nods to acknowledge the threat before he signals Tony to follow him once more.

The open courtyard they arrive in split into two sections to what looks like a separation of living quarters and work areas that were cut into the cliff side. Mortan didn’t even bother pointing out the living quarters, where Tony suspects are where the workers currently are. This did make him pause in thought wondering briefly why they had to stop all work because of a royal visit. Well, whatever; he’s about to see elfish engineering at its finest.

Regardless of his age Mortan crosses the threshold to the work area with swift efficient steps, probably intending to get this visit done and over with. Perhaps it was, all business to him since the elf did mention production work for the war efforts. They must have inspections and deliverable visits all the time.

Tony passes through the threshold and into a large cavernous chamber with torches for lighting and minimal furnishings, a few chairs and small bistro-like tables scattered about, most likely a lobby of sorts. Beyond the lobby were half dozen hallways, varying in size of width and height. Instead of choosing a path and going any further, Mortan turns around and faces Tony. Interestingly enough, the grumpy face is gone completely. Only curiosity carved the frown lines. Or so Tony thought.

“Before we continue, I hear from Ambassador Larien that your holdings are overseeing Midgard's efforts for the war. Which lead me to inquire, why the immediate interest here? Are you planning to usurp our entire commission? If that is the case, you can take your sweet arse back to Midgard.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot close to his hairline.

“Whoa! It’s nothing like that man—er elf. I am a man of science and an engineer!” 

Seeing the puzzled look, Tony rubs the back of his head with a hand as he tries to sort out his lingo a bit better.

“You know, a person who builds and tinker with stuff? Figure out how things work and tick? And make it ten times better? Not that I’m planning to do that for whatever you elves are doing of course. ”

The tawny elf gave him a measured look that lasted longer than it should to be comfortable and finally snorts before muttering something unintelligible about the wrong brother. Tony chalks it up to old folks being ornery.

“I believe you. So let us make this quick, I got a schedule to keep and your scent is only getting thicker. As you say, what makes you tick then?”

This really isn’t the kind of tour Tony is expecting but he’ll take whatever he can get, although the comment about his scent makes him wonder if his human body odor is really that offensive?

“Well, I’m really interested to see the operation as a whole, the workspace, the techniques on the tools use, the stuff you work with and how.”

Mortan finally flashes him a smile, brief as it is since he begins talking immediately.

“That is quite broad, Prince. You see there?”

The old elf points widely at the different size corridors.

“We separate the work area on the scale of the commission. Each chamber is self-contained except for the grander scale commissions that requires assembly. In that case, we use the courtyard. So let me ask you again, what do you fancy?”

Tony rubs his chin as he thinks.

“Besides weapons, what else are you making?”

Mortan snorts again.

“Do you know of any Asgardian who does not want more weapon or armor? Rarely do we receive differently. If I heard Prince Thor correctly, you have a commission for us?”

He isn’t prepared. Tony is hoping to see what the forge is like prior to revealing his intent. It looks like the old elf is determined to know before showing him anything.

“Okay, so I get the whole preference for hand to hand combat thing, but I prefer a range of defenses and offenses. So I built this thing here.”

He then removes one of his leather vambrace and shows Mortan the metal cuff underneath with what looks like a glowing jewel that he wears habitually and demo how it works. The plates begin to shift, span out and enclose his entire hand up pass the wrist. The glowing circle flashes in warning on his palm.

Mortan didn’t even bother asking but immediately took up his gauntlet hand and inspects it. For good reason, Tony begins to feel rather nervous. 

“A bit rudimentary. The choice of metal could be better and the power source is limited. The design should be more protective of the wielder. Hm, the weapon concealment aspect is certainly un-Asgardian.”

He knew it. Tony recognizes disapproval when he hears it as he deactivates the gauntlet and places the leather vambrace back on. At least he thought it was until the old cat quips, “If this is a sample of Midgardian science, I approve.”

Relieved, Tony breaks into a wide grin and discloses the rest, “This actually belongs to an entire suit of armor. I would have brought it with me but my Uncle Steve started giving me a lecture and I cave. I’m on the seventh model right now. There are a few things I want to change and add. I was hoping maybe I can get some pointers for design and suggestions for materials? Maybe even use a small part of the forge to build it?”

Before he even finishes, Mortan is shaking his head no. Tony would pout if it didn’t make him look un-Princely. 

“Absolutely not, not until you are bonded. Even then, tis questionable especially with this particular one as your Betroth.”

Oh, this isn’t good. Tony is hoping to have something to do whilst he waste his days being courted. His boredom would kill him probably long before any foreign sickness would.

“Now do not look so disappointed. You may not work here at your disposal, however if I recall, there is a small forge near the stable the horse smith uses at Gimlé.”

Hopping with excitement, Tony presses onward, “So you’ll help me?”

“You are a peculiar one I will grant you that, young Prince. Aye, I shall provide you with the aide you need. I do question the need for a full suit of armor. If it is of similar material, how can you move when the power fails you?”

He shrugs. Tony had guessed as much, it’s always nearly the first question people ask him.

“I’m only mortal and besides I can _fly_ in it. As to the power problem, let’s say I have a good source built in.”

Mortan actually looks impressed.

“Indeed? I would express then, the need for armor whilst not in the suit and train in weapons that require your own strength to wield. Tis decided, I shall show you this one.”

And the old cat moves decisively to the second corridor to the right as if they hadn’t stopped to chitchat. For his age, which is probably older than some civilizations, Mortan moves rather quickly. Tony is so busy trying to catch up with him through the meandering passage it takes him a while to realize what he step into. The dome shape cavern is about the size of a baseball field. He could see the outlines of the different workspace perfectly and understood the reason why the forge is located next to a waterfall.

The elves had harness the power of watermills, very much like a finery forge to automate some of the smelting, grinding and sawing process. Off centered from the middle, is a round pool of molten fire. Surrounding the perimeter were anvils of various size and shapes, some standard looking and others a variation of. There is one ginormous anvil in particular that looks like it would take ten blacksmith to hammer whatever is on it out. Above the fire pit is a large shaft that was probably used to funnel the toxic fumes outward.

Mortan calls him over to the rows and rows of shelves filled with a wide variety of armor pieces and weapons. He points at what looks like swatches of cloths.

“I recommend something like this chainmail as a layer of armor to be worn when you are force to vacate the suit.”

Tony picks up a sample of light thin chainmail that looks similar to the mithril shirt described in _Lord of the Rings_ novel. It really isn’t his style.

“Actually, this is too thick and slippery. I usually wear a thin cloth t-shirt and jeans underneath.”

Mortan grunts.

“These items you mention do not sound like they offer much protection if at all. So a thin yet clingy strong material….ah! I know just the one.”

The elf points at another sample of cloth to him and Tony immediately picks it up and put the fabric through the ringer of stretching and tries tearing it. It doesn’t budge. Also, seen from a certain light the fabric looks transparent to a point where it blends in. This would make him appear nude; again not really his style.

“No offense, but I rather not appear in my birthday suit when I’m out of the suit.”

Mortan frowns in confusion.

“What is this birthday suit you speak of?”

Damn it, Tony thought he could get by a day without flushing beet red.

“It means, um… appearing nude.”

Cackling. Honest to Einstein, the ornery grumpy elf from before is cackling at his expense.

“Aye! Heh heh! I can see how this might display your comely figure. This material is infused with shadow thread from Svartalheim and offers you concealment as well as protection.”

Stealth mode? Awesome!

“Nice, what other properties does it have? Is it temperature regulating? Energy dissipative or capacitive? How much damage can it take?”

Mortan shook his head in good humor; a broad smile creasing his face.

“I believe you to be the kind who would prefer to find out for themselves. Take a few sample of materials I have and mull it over. Once you figure them out then we can talk of designs and such.”

Tony’s returning smile is equally as wide. 

“Deal!”

The tawny elf began sorting through a few more samples and placed them in a burlap sack for him. When they were done with that rack, Mortan led him to a wall full of weapons of various length and sizes. Although all newly made, the type of weaponry looks like they belong to a museum; in the ancient warfare section for close combat. Tony personally prefers the World Wars section. 

“So which do you fancy?”

He didn’t want to seem unappreciative so Tony ventured a closer look. Being in the weapons business, he isn’t unfamiliar with the items displayed. He made a point to become an expert in the field and excel at it after all. Once the galactic war is over, Tony intends to divert Stark Industries more towards security, robotics, and telecommunications. It would probably be against his father’s wishes, but Tony wants to eventually phase out from weapons making. Having the title _Merchant of Death_ christened by Obadiah isn’t something he wants to be proud of. Being crown the _Da Vinci of his Generation_ had a better ring to it, even though he doesn’t paint.

Pick something, the old elf says. There are various types of staffs, quarterstaffs, spears, and halberds. Not really Tony’s style. He sidesteps quickly away from the section of war hammers, morning stars, maces, and axes. If Clint was here, he would have drool over the different range of crossbows and long bows. And then there were the blades, lots and lots of them with different width and length, mostly double edged. A few of them reminded him of this rare blade called the Ulfberht made circa 800 A.D. It was a thing of beauty. Again not really his style, although Tony could see Uncle Steve wielding it in one hand and his shield on the other.

“You fancy that and the long bow do you?”

Startled from his reverie, Tony spins around to face Mortan.

“Actually, I was thinking of my pack mates back home. My friend, Clint, is a trick shot and fancy long-range weapons, but his passion is bows and arrows. And then my Uncle Steve has this huge round Spartan type of shield made from Vibranium. That long sword here probably would go well with it.”

“Are they Omega warriors like you?”

Uh oh. Tony recognizes that look. It always seem to happen when he mention his pack mates somehow or other. There are two categories: either they are interested or disgusted. Never neutral about it.

“Sorta. Clint is a Beta who bonded recently to an Alpha femme called Black Widow and Steve is an Omega who puts the super in super soldier.”

Oh boy. That look certainly belongs to the interested category.

“Is he bonded as well?”

So Tony huffs in warning, “Look you can stop that thought right now. My Uncle Steve is not a typical Omega, he’s a pioneer, practically a national treasure. He leads our pack like an Alpha and doesn’t take anybody’s dominant shit. Many has tried and failed.”

Oh no. Tony did a mental face palm. He just fanned the flames apparently.

“Sounds like an Omega worth earning. My son, Calder, is looking for a mate for two centuries. If you put in a good word and provide him an opportunity, I shall teach you what I can.”

Damn it. The old tabby cat-elf drives a hard bargain: Steve’s virtue or ancient alien knowledge? He thought about it for only a minute.

“I can’t promise you his hand in marriage, but I can introduce him to your son. It’ll be up to Steve whether he wants to be wooed or not, capisce?”

“As you say, deal.”

Proud of his bargain, Mortan smiles with all teeth, which reminds Tony of the creepy Cheshire cat and pointedly looks away.

“Prince Anthony, you have yet to mention your preference. I cannot believe I have nothing here worthy of your interest.”

Tony shrugs before commenting, “I usually built my own stuff, as you can see from the gauntlet. I like range capabilities: lasers, missiles, bullets, bombs, like that. The gauntlet can shoot repulsor beams and the armor suit has all that other stuff built in.”

Mortan shakes his head as if he’s disappointed with what he’s heard.

“Aye, for Midgardian tis understandable. However, what if your power source is down and you are empty of projectiles? What then?”

“Now you sound like my Uncle Steve. Look, I’ve trained in a few fighting styles aside of S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy basics, like Wing Chun, Jiu-jitsu, Kendo, stuff like that. Most of the time, my suit ends the fight and I go home and eat celebratory pizza without anything broken or bruised up too badly. It’s all good.”

Mortan shakes his head again; it's probably because he couldn’t understand half of what Tony had said.

“A war is upon us. You will need more than one suit to hold back the hoard. Our enemies would not stop until all ceases to exist.”

Tony knew the old guy is right, it’s just not something he likes to dwell on.

“More than one suit, huh? Now that's an idea. You’re the close range weapons expert; you tell me what you think I need?”

“You have mentioned the training you had; a demonstration should help my assessment of you.”

So a basic kata it is. Tony jogs his memory of a weapon he prefers before moving to a wide-open space to demo as if he has a bokken in hand. Closing his eyes, he then takes a deep breath and imagines a faceless opponent, drawing his sword with practice ease. A few minutes later, upon finishing, he turns toward Mortan for his evaluation.

“Well?”

“A two handed weapon that can be used single handed. Light weight, medium reach, mainly used for slicing and stabbing. A curve single-sided blade with a sharp tip. It would need to have a good balance as well as an amalgamation of hard and soft metals. I am picturing a long hilt with a round guard and leather grip, possibly a scabbard worn at the waist.”

Tony needn’t feel too guilty about dangling Steve on the platter. Mortan’s knowledge is so worth it.

“It's called a katana back on Midgard. A legendary sword smith called Masamune used seven layers of various type of steel to make his finest creations. There’s only a few left in our world.”

Intrigued, Mortan ventures a guess, “You have one, aye? This a test?”

It was Tony’s turn to grin like a Cheshire.

“As you would say, aye. I didn’t bring it with me, but I do have the design.”

He digs into the pocket of his leather vest and fishes the folded blue print paper out. They move to a somewhat empty table and spread the paper out. Mortan takes a moment to process the information.

“I shall take up your challenge. You will find my craftsmanship to be better than legend.”

“It better.”

Tony holds out a hand to shake on it, but Mortan gave him an odd look.

“On Midgard, we shake hands to seal the deal.”

“That is an odd custom. Do all Alphas, Betas and Omegas share scent willingly? Without reservation?”

“Um, yes and no. We usually wear gloves with strangers. So yeah, I forgot.”

Tony activates his gauntlet once more and this time Mortan takes his offer.

The sudden reverberation of a giant bell being rung reaches them.

“That is the first warning bell. I believe your time is up, Prince Anthony. We must resume our work. It has been an honor to meet you. I will send word upon completing your commission.”

They had begun their short trek back to the open courtyard.

“Do you have an estimate on how long it would take? I would like to consult you about the materials for the under-suit once I complete my experiments.”

It didn’t take long before they reach the threshold in the lobby. Mortan pauses to think about it.

“I will see to the commission myself, however given my schedule, I would say less than a fortnight if all goes well. Meanwhile, I am sure you will have enough to keep you busy.”

Tony fails to hold back a sigh upon that reminder.

“Yeah. Prince Thor wants me to meet his pack mates. I have a feeling they aren’t really my kind of company. I rather be here or working on the under-suit idea.”

Mortan shakes his head in good humor.

“I realize you have been rather candid with me even though we have just met. I enjoy your company, Prince Anthony. If I were younger and hopefully my mate would not kill me for thinking such, Prince Thor will find he has a contender to compete with. And do not worry so. I have met his pack mates for several of their commissions. You will find Lady Sif and the Warriors three to be ideal companions for Thor. They are loyal, protective, and fierce warriors. However they do have their faults so I do not envy you. Be well.”

With a bow that is much more respectful than the earlier one, Mortan makes his exit as he head towards the living quarters. Tony is flattered by old elf's flirting and felt only fondness. He moves his gaze to Thor and his waiting chariot then wishes he can say the same of his Betroth.

For a second date, it sucks.


	7. Dog Days in Alfheim, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/26/16

They were back on the chariot. Tony can’t say he's enjoying the scenery. It is very much like being in any supersonic vehicle, anything close by is a blur except for the wind tunnel view at the front or the back. The cobblestone road to and from the castle is wide and indirect, with twists and turns to accommodate natural landmarks like bypassing ancient looking trees and cutting across riverbeds. From the two roads he’s travel so far, Tony can safely deduce that the elfish motto for civil engineering is construction not for convenience or efficiency, but of necessity. That and they seem to value nature like Frey had mention.

“How… did you find Onollo?”

That was the first time Thor attempt conversation of any kind in their outings. The one about his pets didn’t count. Tony had just assumed the other wasn’t interested in small talk. After hearing the hesitation though, he’s willing to give the big guy the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Thor doesn't know what he’s doing either. Tony changes his stance to brace his back against the chariot so that he can face the other without getting a neck crank. Huh, Thor’s profile didn’t lend much but guess.

So he says, “Good, even though I only got to see the one forge where they make the handheld weapons and light armor.”

“I had expected Mortan to see to your needs, not to slight you so. I shall have words with him when I see him next.”

Thor got the whole wrathful god look down if Tony ever really believed in that utter nonsense. Yup, complete with the scowl, the nose flare, and thunderous overtone.

Realizing his words were taken as a complaint, Tony verbally backpedals, “No, no! He didn’t shortchange me at all! I was _totally_ catered, even got an ETA on my commission too. So I’m good. A completely satisfied customer. ‘Kay?”

How Thor manages to switch facial expression without pulling a muscle, Tony would never know.

“Aye, that is good to hear.”

They fell back into companionable silence as Thor happily guides the goats at a breakneck speed. Now that Tony thought about it, does the chariot even have brakes? What if they had to stop for a deer or that bilgesnipe thing? Now that the chatter started, Tony decides to fill up the silence with his personal brand of inanity, no time like the present to get the big guy use to his quirks.

“Can this thing come with seatbelts?”

Thor takes a moment to mull over his words before he inquires back.

“If I understand your wording correctly, tis a seat… with belts?”

Tony nods with a smirk, “Yes.”

As predicted, now the big guy looks confused.

“There are no seats on a chariot and why would you wish to strap yourself to one if there were? Would it not be inconvenient to move about?”

Tony breaks into a wide grin before he lectures in a serious manner, “It is designed for safety in mind. In Midgard, when we travel in fast vehicles and have to brake abruptly, the person won’t be sent flying.”

Thor goes from frowning to grinning, “Aye, worry not. I am the Mighty Thor. My reflexes shall prevent such an occurrence and likewise catch you before you fall.”

It would seem he's found another person with an even bigger ego. How humbling.

Chuckling softly, Tony comments out of the blue, “Aren’t you the least bit curious what I ask Mortan to make me?”

With a shrug of nonchalance, Thor simply states, “Not at all. If you wish to share it, I shall be delighted to hear it.”

Huh, sounds like a line straight from those Jane Austen movies Steve likes to pick for his turn on movie night. Not that Tony memorizes those sappy lines per se, he just has a very good memory.

So Tony shrugs back, “Mortan says it’ll take him about two weeks to make it. I’ll share it then.”

This time, Thor actually turns his head to look at Tony with amazement before his gaze verve back to the road. He didn’t have to wonder long about the reason.

“Ever since Mortan was appointed foreman of the Royal Forge by my father, he has forsaken the title of a Master Weapon-smith. Tis a great honor indeed for him to take upon this task.”

“Oh.”

Wow. What more can he say. Tony knew the old cat-elf can talk shop with him, he didn’t know Mortan is THAT good. Now, he couldn’t wait until the two weeks is up. He must have really made an impression.

“The shade of your blush is redder than your shirt.”

What the hell! Tony glares at Thor’s grinning profile for commenting on the obvious. Again, that is not how one flirts.

“And you sir, are a jerk.”

Take that Shakespeare.

“Tis not I, but I shall endeavor to drive the chariot at an even pace.”

Lost in translation by default, even an insult goes unnoticed.

The castle is a welcome sight. Up ahead, he could make out the large gnarled tree the goats were grazing under from earlier. Now there were four lightly armored humanoids; very tall and by the looks of one of them, very round. As far as first impressions go, they look so thrown together. Like someone went to a fantasy warrior draft and pick out random folks: a Xena, a Genghis Khan, a Robin Hood and his Friar Tuck. Judging by how relax they are at their arrival, Tony can guess they're Thor’s pack. He hadn’t expected to meet them all at once and so soon.

Apparently neither did Thor as he reins in Toothgrinder and Toothgnasher with a jolt and shouts in surprise, “My friends! You are all here!”

Without waiting for a complete stop, Thor jumps over the chariot and hurries over to greet them. Tony has never seen the big guy more animated.

“I had sent word for each of you to arrive at a specific hour. How haps you come to this?”

Still on the chariot, Tony leans slightly forward and takes the opportunity to observe Thor and his pack. The round one is the first to cut through the physical greetings with enough bluster to make Tony grip the chariot as a precaution, “Tis not by design I assure you! Since my summon is at two, I arrive early anticipating the midday meal.”

The tall leggy amazon one then comments with a smirk, “Aye, we all know how Volstagg cannot resist Alfheim’s succulent pheasants steep in honey mead.”

Her voice, raspy and lyrical, Tony likes. Her tone has more bite than niceties but given how big this Volstagg is, he’s an easy target. They all laughed except the Asian one only snicker with good humor.

She then continues, “Likewise, since my summon is before his, I chose to arrive an hour early.”

Next, the shortest of all them (though still taller than Tony), he now deems as the silent one comments, “I am on time.”

Last of the round robin, the Errol Flynn lookalike chimes in his two cents, “And of course Thor saved the best for last. I took the liberty of arriving early as well to make myself comfortable. Tis a shame all the available sorts have been evacuated. So as you can see, we are all thrown together by happenstance.”

Tony perks up at the sentence spoken beforehand. Is that what happen at Stone Cliff too? Though he didn’t have long to think on it. 

“I can certainly understand why you summon us. Thor, you lucky fiend! Will you be introducing us to your Betroth?”

That draws all eyes upon him. Probably having just been reminded of his manners, Thor flashes him a smile full of chagrin and quickly returns to Tony’s side. This time, Tony moves to the opening and extends a hand out instead of having the big guy pick him up by the waist. Thor literally beams with approval, which is odd, Tony considers touching his waist much more intimate than his hand.

Thor’s own hand is warm, callous, and surprisingly gentle. It also engulfs his palm entirely. Tony tries not to over think that as he jumps down and promptly sways on his feet, just shy of leaning against Thor’s armored chest. Mm, the big guy smells nice, like sunshine, ozone, and leather. If Tony could bottle that musk, he could probably make another cool million. Although, having other people smelling like his Betroth maybe not a good idea.

Murmuring his thanks, Tony takes a moment to pull away and face the others who in the interim averted their gaze, appearing occupied or other. He huffs at their unnecessary discretion and waits for Thor to do his thing.

“Prince Anthony Stark of Midgard, I present to you Lady Sif and the Warriors Three: Hogun the Grim, Volstagg the Voluminous, and Fandral the Dashing.”

All self-titled, probably. Perhaps he should consider giving himself a title too. The Invincible Iron Man has a nice ring to it.

Having been called out in a line up, they each took their respective bow.

Tony returns the gesture but decides to add a little Earth flavor to the meet and greet too. So he says, “Hello!”

And throw in a wave for good measure to which funnily enough, they do wave back. Meeting and making nice with other packs has never been his strong suit since Tony’s pretty much been a loner before Steve came along, so silence ensues.

They’re all staring at him, in one degree or another. Lady Sif is measuring, as if her supermodel good looks and athletic body is something Tony can’t compete with, except there is no competition. Hogun is neutral but observant. Volstagg is shaking his head as he eyes Tony’s height and trim waist. He should feel insulted but that bit with the waist, Tony wouldn’t touch that subject with a ten-foot pole. And Fandral, well he’s eyeing Tony all right.

Thor’s response is immediate in placing his palm on the small of Tony’s back and rumbles in warning, causing a shudder to run down Tony’s spine in response. He’s been around his fair share of Alphas, but never felt anything like this before. For some strange reason he has this overwhelming urge to bare his neck. It is all over and done within a matter of seconds and the urge disappears. After shaking his head to clear it, Tony caught the other pack mates giving censuring looks at Fandral’s lopsided grin. Tony gets it; the guy didn’t get to be called Fandral the Dashing without reason.

Caught off guard in more ways than one, Tony finds himself swept along the path as Thor heads toward the castle and declares, “Let us resign to the dining hall. My friends can regale us with their adventures since my absence.”

* * *

Several hours later, Tony finds his patience worn thin. He loves a good party, especially the ones he hosts. This though? Sitting around the dinner table for hours retelling stories after stories, each more embellish than the last, all the while wining and dining away, being loud and noisome, not so much. If this is what they consider a good time, Tony hopes there are more options.

The midday meal had turn into dinner. Thor’s pack mates had finish updating the Crown Prince long ago and move on to reminiscing some old adventure or other. Tony wishes he can leave so easily like all the elves around them, but the pack somehow boxed him in, always making a point to pause and get his reaction before continuing. However, once in a while, they’ll begrudgingly slip up and mention something Prince Loki did (which was scoffed at most times) even though to Tony sounded quite ingenious.

Which brings to mind, why hasn’t Thor introduce his brother to Tony yet? From what has been mention of that guy so far, it sounds like the mysterious second prince is reachable but busy doing something. After tonight, Tony can understand why. If smarts don’t win points with this pack, he’d probably make himself scarce too. Obviously Thor is in for a letdown when Tony points out he’s more a scholar than a warrior.

After the umpteenth yawn (Tony’s been making it really obvious by now), his efforts finally pays off, though not in the way he intended. Fandral has been keeping his distance though his gaze is never far, well whenever Thor isn’t looking and comments with a leer, “Thor, you horrible man! Anthony looks dead on his feet. I would say you should get him off to bed.”

Yeah, no innuendo there. And apparently, Tony has been officially accepted into the pack so he’s now just Anthony sans the title for them too. On his end, he’s not comfortable enough to ask them to call him Tony just yet. That comment though, gets a myriad of responses from the table. Volstagg and surprisingly King Frey share a laugh, Hogun is Switzerland, Lady Sif is hiding her disgust not too well with a grimace, and Queen Frigga shakes her head in disapproval. While Thor, he—he looks contemplative.

That makes Tony jump quicker on his feet then anything. No time for diversions or witty comebacks. He had thought courting meant taking their sweet time, not put out on the second date. Not that he’s a prude; it’s just as an Omega without undergoing heat ever, getting it up is harder than people think. Also while Thor, with his rough edges is nice and respectful at times, Tony isn’t attracted to him just yet.

So he fakes a laugh before addressing King Frey, “I should like to retire early if you don’t mind, your highness?”

King Frey’s lips curve in a knowing manner and nods his consent before teasing him further, “Thor, kindly escort your Betroth to his quarters.”

Tony immediately flushes with mortification and makes to vacate the dining hall with as much dignity as he can muster. The following catcalls didn’t help. He’s twenty steps away from the exit when Thor finally catches up to him. Thankfully, the big guy refrains from commenting anything even though there is a perpetual smirk on his lips. They walk side by side in companionable silence until they reach his room. Not wanting to make it even more awkward with what is left unsaid since the dining hall, Tony makes to push his doors open and says goodnight. However Thor has other plans apparently. The big guy grabs his wrist to stop him then changes his grasp to tug on Tony’s hand, signaling him to turn around. Both of their palms are damp with sweat.

Gulping with mostly anxiety and a bit of anticipation, Tony relents and raises his eyes to meet Thor’s amuse ones.

“You are a strange one, Anthony Stark of Midgard.”

Okay, not quite the words one would say before they go for the good night kiss. Tony finds his nerve receding so decides to wade it out for the rest of it.

“You are as bold and charming as anyone I have ever met. My mother is already fond of you, my uncle and my pack mates have accepted you… yet I find you a mystery still.”

Tony smirks at that comment.

“Their earlier teasing, tis all in good cheer, there has not been a royal betrothal since my father’s own. From what I have observe from their match, tis my hope that we shall take all the time we need to build trust and one day learn to love each other.”

That little speech is rather elegant considering the whole Viking persona present in all his glory. They are essentially alone in a well-lit hallway and Thor is behaving better than most Alphas. Amaze by that revelation, Tony finds himself nodding in agreement and Thor beams with approval.

“We have made progress this day and will proceed no further lest without your approval.”

To prove his point, the big guy slowly raises Tony’s hand to his lip level and waits. Shaking his head at Thor’s theatrics, Tony rolls his eyes and nods his consent. The kiss on his knuckles is soft and brief.

“I bid you a good night, Anthony.”

Thor had barely walked around a corner when Tanna opens the doors of his quarters from the inside and Tony promptly staunches the shriek that threatens to burst forth. Nothing prevented the expletives fortunately.

“Jumping fucking gigawatts! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? How did you get here before me anyways?”

He places a hand to his chest as if trying to stop it from actually popping out.

“My apologies, Prince Anthony. Tis part of my duties to escort you in the absence of any Royal family members. I thought it wise to give you a moment to recover from your ki—well there you have it.”

Luckily, she read his face pretty well not to continue in that vein of speech. Speaking of which, Tony signals her to move aside and he crosses the room to sit on the chaise as if he’s holding court. Knowing her to be a smart girl (even though she’s probably older than is great-great-great grandmother), Tanna promptly closes the door and moves to stand a few steps before the chaise, her arms relax besides her, waiting for Tony to begin.

“I know it’s only been three days and we barely know each other, but since you’re assigned to me, I want to set up some ground rules.”

He pauses to gauge her response, so far so good. So Tony raise a hand up and start illustrating the point across by counting with his fingers with each item.

“One, I’m cool about a lot of things, but some things I want to be kept strictly confidential unless I say otherwise. I’ll let you know as it happens. So something like the Prince coming to ask you things about me is cool and all, but not always. You with me so far?”

He manages to get a frown on her face.

“I only disclose your wish to see the forge only when Prince Thor had seek guidance and knowledge regarding your preferences. If you are not… cool with this, please let me know? I shall remain silent on the subject.”

Tanna had said the word ‘cool’ like it’s a foreign concept. It probably is.

Tony consider her question after the day he had and says, “At first I didn’t like the fact that you talk about me at all, but that is probably too much to ask for since you don’t technically work for me. So to answer your question, if it is about my preferences, then the answer is yes, you have my permission to disclose it.”

When her demeanor goes back to neutral, Tony continues, “Okay, that tie in perfectly with number two: the unmentionables. Things like my body, my habits, my hygiene, and my personal effects; things that make me cry, make me angry, so especially things that are personal are off limits and not negotiable. We clear?”

Her nod is quick and decisive. So Tony completes his countdown, “Lastly, number three. I want this arrangement to be more like you are my personal assistant, not my valet or my official escort. Deal?”

She actually looks curious now, a first for Tony to witness.

“What duties does a… personal assistant entail?”

Instead of explaining, he shot back with, “What are your duties now?”

“I see to your needs and escort you when I am needed.”

It’s Tony’s turn to frown, “Wait, on-call like 24/7? What did you do before I came here?”

She frowns at first then answers him with more warmth then he heard at any other time, “I study my lessons, maintain the royal library and attend Queen Frigga when she visits.”

“Wow. That sounds hell of a lot better than following me around and catering to my needs. Okay, so as a personal assistant, you only see to my needs when I ask you to. You also keep track of my schedule, like things I got to do and people I got to see. We can keep the escort part since I don’t know my way around yet. When I got nothing going on though, you’ll be off the clock and go spend it however you like. Deal?”

For a long moment, Tanna mulls over his words before she nods and says, “You wish for minimum supervision and personal space, am I correct to assume?”

Tony couldn’t help the broad smile that plaster on his face. “Smart girl, got it in one.”

“Very well, Prince Anthony. However, I must amend one of the items. I have been mandated to never leave you unescorted, as you would say, not negotiable.”

Bristling with irritation, Tony gets up from the chaise and faces Tanna as close to eye level as he can manage without standing atop something. 

“Okay, now I have a problem with that. Why can’t I run around by myself? On Midgard, I have no such restrictions and can perfectly take care of myself, thank you very much.”

In spite of his rising ire, Tanna remains calm and collective when she explains, “Tis for your safety, your highness.”

That sounds rather rehearsed. Exasperated, Tony tries a different angle, “Alfheim is a peaceful realm, is that not what King Frey said?”

Her eyes narrows shrewdly before replying, “Aye, but peace comes at a cost. Precautions are made and rules must be followed.”

She would make a good lawyer. Unfortunately for her, so would Tony. 

“I heard on good authority that all unattached personnel have been asked to leave the castle manor, am I right?” 

Tanna has a good poker face, but Tony press onward, “That’s what the precaution is about, right? You worry that I’ll get accosted or something before Thor and I bonded?”

After seeing her lips thin with confirmation, Tony then cajoles, “Look, I have been approach by unsavory Alphas before and have no problem correcting their notion that I am a bitch in heat. You should see this guy who caught me in the john once, I—"

“Prince Anthony, the customs on Alfheim, Asgard, and the other realms are much different than Midgard. You must heed these precautions; tis there for your protection.”

“Now see here, I can’t say I know your customs that well since your Ambassador Larien refuse to give us a manifesto on inter-realm do's and don’ts. So why don’t you loan me a manual and we can both be on the same page.”

The paleness of her skin blossoms into the color of a ripe tomato. Wow. If only Tony can take a picture. Dumb Proclamation and their damn rules. It took several moments before Tanna finds her voice, it comes out shaky. “…These are delicate topics. I… I am not the right person to speak of this—”

“Bullcrap! You're bonded right, so why can’t you—"

He didn’t think her face can get any redder. Apparently Tanna’s composure is completely gone now when she yells, actually yells back, “I am not!”

That seems to cut Tony up short. Steve always did say he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. In this case, he should heed those words. Derailed for the moment, he sat down heavily back on the chaise and pats the seat next to him. That seems to help her coloring to lighten up when she chose to whisper to the room in general.

“You misunderstood your good authority. All of those who have reached the rite of passage were asked to vacate the castle until the courting period has been observed and the Royal party leaves for Asgard.”

Tony whispers back while he tries not to look at her, “Oh. So you’re… actually really young for your… species?”

“Aye, I have a hundred years to go.”

“Oh. A hundred more years of puberty must suck.”

“Nay, our rite of passage is different than Midgardians’ puberty.”

Confused, Tony turns to look at her and promptly remembers her embarrassment. He turns his head in the opposite direction instead.

“Tanna, I don’t want to be ignorant of your customs, so if you don’t mind explaining?”

That seems to help too as he heard her take a deep breath and begin in a soft lecture voice, “I speak in general for the representation of the other realms. Midgard has three distinct classifications. If I am not mistaken, your distinction can be determine since birth, however for the other realms, it is not so. Ours is unknown until the… gathering and the rite of passage is… performed. Even then, most would straddle the identity of having more than one distinction.”

Tony’s read a study about this once. The rare few who are born with both traces of Alpha and Beta allele, the test group had the capability to choose one over the other as time pass and adjust accordingly.

“Do they pick one?”

“Aye, depending on the need of the pack, some Betas would become dominant Alphas and the reverse is also true.”

He takes a moment to organize his thoughts enough to venture more questions now that Tanna is open to answering them. He has been pondering these for a long time.

“Is inter-realm breeding really compatible?”

“Aye, Queen Frigga is Vanir and Odin All-father is part Jotun and Asgardian.”

“Can Betas get pregnant?”

“Nay. Tis the same as Midgard, only Omegas of either sex can do so, although an Alpha-Beta male can impregnate an Alpha female. Tis rare though, most Alpha female do not like taking the role of bearing the young.”

“There are some studies on Midgard that has been debated a lot. Does the scent thing work differently too?”

For some reason, this question sends Tanna on to her feet and start pacing. Her face is that dark shade of color again. After three rounds across the floor, she manages to settle back down and finds her voice again. This time though, she sounds angry more than embarrass.

“Tis true then? In my studies, there are theories stating in the evolution of your species, the Norns has chosen to eliminate the sense of smell as a factor in choosing your bond mate.”

It is Tony’s turn to put on his lecture cap, “Well, that is a good theory. Our own studies hypothesize that since mankind started masking their scents during our hunter and gatherer days that the nose just became useless. These days, with perfumes, colognes, scented hygiene products, and not to mention the heavy pollution in most parts of the world, it makes sense not to trust the nose even further. Not all humans believe that though. Throughout our history there have been many testimonials that claim they found their bond mates via their scent. There’s a movement trying to push for cleaner air and unscented products, even going au naturale like you guys do here.”

“That is good news. Perhaps the damage can be reverse. I cannot even fathom such a disfigurement; unable to read one’s mood, comfort, and attraction; without it we may as well be blind.”

Tony sat up straight upon hearing that, “Wait, you can read all that just from a person’s scent?”

This time, Tanna turns to him looking scandalized, “The scent is everything! For those who do not master it and learn to control their bodies in response, they become an Úlfhéðnar, a berserker, filled with uncontrollable rage and confusion. Tis the reason we must take precaution, Prince Anthony. Omegas are a rarity outside of Midgard. You are the first Omega the All-father has permitted to be accessible. Your scent must be contained.”

“Oh.”

That explains so much, yet now Tony has even more questions. But first, he has a point to make.

“Okay, I get it. I’ll be cautious, so where’s my safety zone?”

She looks taken aback, “Pardon?”

“There must be an invisible border you guys had drawn out for prohibition right? As long as I stay within the safety zone, we’re good, yes?”

Realization dawns on her face and Tanna gives him a proper smile of defeat, “Your silver-tongue may be as dangerous as Prince Loki’s. We are in accord. In the morrow, I shall bring you a map of the area. In the interim, until Lady Sif and the Warriors Three leaves the premise I shall continue to be your escort, your highness. Prince Thor is breaking tradition somewhat in presenting his pack mates so soon, especially when most of them are unattached Alpha-Betas, although you are quite safe with Volstagg, he is married. So you are not out of the woods just yet.”

Tony sits there beaming with satisfaction in having won the argument. Now he can go back to his questions.

“Tanna, can you tell me more on how this scent thing works?”

When she gets up again, Tony kind of knew their information gathering session is about to end.

“I have surpassed my own sensibilities by far in discussing this subject. Please, I beg of you, do not ask more of me.”

It is Tony’s turn to sigh in defeat, but it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t try a different tactic.

“I understand, but can you at least give me a book to read about it or point me to someone who can give me answers?”

She seem to be more free with her smiles now, which makes Tony’s goal to get through to her a success.

“Aye, I can do better. I know just the book. In the morrow, I shall bring you the translation along with that map. In regards to whom, I have three recommendations: Queen Frigga, Astrid the Wise, and Prince Loki. Of the three, you will have better luck finding Queen Frigga. Anything else I may help you with prior to my saying good night and leave you to your ablutions?”

As much as he wants to cajole more out of her, Tony respects her limit, “No, that’s all. Thank you, Tanna.”

* * *

It is late.

The bustling noise from the castle by day differs dramatically by night. The crashing waves from the not so distant ocean soothes his thoughts by its familiarity. Out in the balcony, with the curtains half drawn to illuminate his room with the alien glow of Alfheim’s two moons, Tony stood leaning against the balustrade, contemplating the past three days and what he’s learned so far. The first night, Tony felt homesick as the newness and foreign nature of everything taking its toll emotionally. The second night, he felt pretty numb and hopeless about the betrothal working out given how barbaric Thor was. Now that it’s the third day, Thor seems promising.

As much as things change for the better in his life ever since Steve happened, Tony finds himself back on square one. He’s back in that gilded cage, only now it is a Prince as his Alpha setting boundaries with foreign customs and alien biology. Thor is a Viking contradiction though, a gentle giant with his unhurried approach to courting and his uncanny ability to impress people without trying. 

Except for Mortan. Tony smiles in remembering the old cat-elf. Of the few people he’s met so far, the Master Sword-smith is the only person he hopes to see more of. His suggestion of using the horse-smith’s forge certainly sounds promising too. The way Thor has said about taking their time courting, maybe Tony can convert it into his temporary lab for now. Tony has to make do before and was able to create and build works of art with such restraints. He can do so here. There is so much to learn, alien technology to absorb, and realms of possibilities for him to explore.

Settled with his initial plans for the future, Tony finally felt brave enough to open up his past. The black nylon duffle bag he packed days ago looks out of place next to the wooden trunk. He’d only retrieve his toiletry kit from a side pocket so far. Since he’s been provided everything, it seems pointless now to even pack anything. But it isn’t pointless, one day he would be permitted to see his pack mates again and Tony will need the constant reminder for going through with this until then.

With purposeful steps, he pads barefoot to retrieve the bag and place it on the foot of the nest. Tony drew himself up and sat cross-leg before it. Unhurried, he zips open the u-shape cover and peels it back. Thanks to Steve, half of the bag is stacked with Tony’s favorite clothes, a mixture of old band t-shirts, wife beaters, sweats, and designer jeans. His white socks are rolled up and neatly tucked away next to his unmentionables. How Steve manage to pack those without blushing Tony would very much like to see. Perhaps when he has the chance to return Earth-side, J.A.R.V.I.S. can pull the surveillance on that. But oddly enough, he’s been going commando with the leather pants and felt no discomfort at all. 

On the other half of the bag, neatly packaged in various patterns and colors of wrapping paper were the going away presents he received from his close friends and pack mates. There wasn’t a party, but Steve had sent a memo out to everyone making sure every item didn’t violate the Proclamation agreement, so Tony didn’t have to part from any of them. At the time, he joked about being a billionaire who can buy whatever they gave him but there were tears in his eyes when he said it.

Thinking he might as well start from the top, Tony picks up a small cube packaged with multi-color polka dots. He recognizes Clint’s scrawl anywhere and carefully opens it. The blaring black Apple logo atop a white plastic container affronts his senses.

“You got to be kidding me! Come on, what happen to company loyalty?”

He opens the container anyways and sees a red shiny touch screen shuffle sitting in the cradle. Plucking it out, Tony turns it on and the device comes to life. Strangely interesting proof of time dilation, the device date and time says it’s only been a day and a few hours since he left. It is certainly something to explore later. Out of curiosity, Tony starts scrolling down the music tab and breaks into a chortle, a playlist with all his friends’, pack mates’ as titles greets him. No surprise, Steve’s list has jazz and swing music with a lot of Sinatra, Crosby and even Bublé. Bruce’s taste is more eclectic, new age meditative music from around the world. Clint and his lewd rap music, huh, and unexpectedly country music. Then there’s Pepper and her classics of course. Oh thank goodness for Rhodey, classic rock has a representative. Even his driver slash bodyguard, Happy, and the newly minted in-law, Widow, added theirs. Tony dials it back to Rhodey’s and plucks the headphones out of the cradle to plug it in the jack. After fitting the earbuds in place, the sweet anthem of youth fills the silence of the night and Tony sighs in satisfaction.

Bopping his head to the music, Tony picks up the next package that is a flat rectangular box, a little heavy and wrap in black with no name on it. He can guess that one and carefully opens it. It’s a five piece set of black steel throwing knives with casing.

Okay. Quickly placing that aside on the bedding, Tony picks up another package and reads the little note: _‘Can’t believe they got you a shuffle without a charging station. Dumb shit, man. Don’t do anything stupid! –Rhodey’_

He could guess already but smiles anyways to see a USB solar charger. Tony places that aside and moves the next one mark Bruce. A bark of laughter fills the room when he discovers it’s a CSI kit complete with an abundance of test tubes, vials and plastic bags. Setting that aside too, Tony opens the next item mark Pepper. The large package has a note on it too: _‘Don’t stop imagining. Come back when you need more. – Pepper’_

After opening it, Tony chuckles at the contents: a box of 100 count yellow number two pencils with sharpener sits atop two stacks of 500 sheets engineering paper. Placing that aside, Tony places his hand back in the bag and comes up empty, so he fishes around and finds nothing. He then peers inside and only saw his clothes. Huh, nothing from Steve. Well, technically he has his uncle’s playlist, but still. There should have been something.

Not wanting to feel ungrateful, he gets up and takes a deep breath to clear the threat of tears. Deciding to put his things away inside the large trunk, Tony begins with grabbing the stack of clothes with one hand. Something hard slips out from in-between, not even thinking about it, Tony caught it before it fell on the floor. His eyes begin to blur as large droplets of tears plop onto the small picture frame of Steve and the whole gang. Best present ever.


	8. Dog Days in Alfheim, Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/26/16

The flapping of fabric is his only warning before the blaring rays of the morning sun hits him square in the face. It is Steve’s favorite way of waking Tony up no matter how late or rather how long he spent in his lab on a science binge. Later, when Tony hired Pepper as his personal assistant, she adopts the method enthusiastically to his annoyance. So it is with little wonder Tony feels the rude awakening as both familiar and out of place. He is half expecting J.A.R.V.I.S. to comment on the weather and report on the N.Y.S.E.

What he gets is Tanna reciting his schedule like an old pro while hearing her flit about his room picking up the mess he made of the empty boxes and torn wrapping papers.

“Good morrow, Prince Anthony. Prince Thor wishes for your attendance at the East wall training field after you break your fast. There, Hogun the Grim shall test your mettle until the midday supper. Afterwards, you are free to do as you wish unless of course, you wish to join Prince Thor and the Warriors Three at the Red Cockerel?”

Pulling his head out from the pillow he’d burrowed under, Tony valiantly opens one eye to locate the ever mobile elf. Oddly enough, Tanna has her head bury inside the trunk. 

“Huh?”

Okay, maybe not his most elegant but Tony didn’t remember ordering an itinerary last night. After three nights of not being able to sleep (being knock-out drunk the second day hadn’t count), he was finally able to sleep like a baby listening to _Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto no.2_. Imagine that, if he knew Pepper’s choice in music did the trick so easily Tony would have employ that method years ago, although more sleeping means less time for science so maybe not.

Bleary-eyed, he sat up slowly and rubs the sleep from his eyes. Feeling something choking him, Tony clumsily unwraps the cord from the headphones tangled around his neck, before tucking the music player and all beneath his pillow. When he refocuses his attention again, the room is neat and tidy, like magic, or Tanna’s as fast as Steve in a marathon. Tony doesn’t believe in that hocus pocus reference from the Norse myths or any other ancient stories. He agrees with Arthur C. Clarke that magic is just advance science people couldn’t explain yet. Or base on his observations so far, enhance beings eliminating the need for certain innovations. These Asgardians, Elves, Dwarves, Krees, and who knows what else out there are just genetically built hardier than most humans. Their evolution started earlier in the scheme of things, however given the account of mutants and science induce changes on the rise over the past century, Tony can safely say humanity is playing catch up fast. Not all embrace the changes naturally, but that morbid topic is not something he wants to ponder first thing in the morning.

Last night, he’d stash most of the presents along with the samples Mortan gave him in the trunk except for the small picture frame. That, he placed on the vanity. Tanna didn’t seem curious by any of the additions she found when she retrieves a set of clothes for him to wear. A black leather ensemble with what looks like a grey long sleeve thermal.

“Prince Anthony, last evening you specify as part of my duties is to keep track of your schedule, I have done just so,” remarks Tanna while she place the outline of the clothes at the foot of his nest. Per usual, it’s her not so subtle way of showing Tony how it should be worn without actually saying so.

Scratching the back of his head as is his habit, Tony comments playfully in return, “Yeah, but I don’t recall getting the memo—er message on that schedule. Do I even have a say? Like not go? Or like, hm, I prefer that without the jacket and just the low slinging belt will do just fine? Also, what does testing my mettle even mean? And why the hell would I want to go back to the Red Cock? I’m pretty sure now that’s not included as part of the boundary you guys have drawn up.”

Frowning at his words, Tanna purses her lips as if she’s debating something internally or just trying not to laugh. Kudos to her professionalism, she manages a straight face after all.

“Tis customary for the Alpha to woo his Betroth by demonstrating his ability to provide care and protection. Tis also customary for the Alpha’s pack to aide him in his courtship by demonstrating their abilities to the Betroth as well.”

A slow smile draws on Tony’s lips when he realizes what is different about her today and he teases accordingly. Tony leans forward and braces his elbow atop his knees so that he can prop his chin on the palm of his hand.

“My, how forthcoming with info you are today. I kind of miss the old Tanna and her rosy cheeks.”

Her eyes turn beady for a second before she tilts her head up as her spine stiffens.

“I know not what you mean, sir. I am merely reciting the text I translated for your perusal.” 

Tony snorts at her deflection, “I’m sure you are, but you’re not acting all missish on me. What’s changed?”

At that, the colors on her cheeks blossom and Tony felt perversely justified that he isn’t the only one to do so around here.

“Tis nothing to fuss over. Now, would your Highness kindly rise from the beddings so that we may begin the day? You may wear your outfit however you please. I merely suggest you take care to dress for the occasion. Hogun the Grim is not known for his leniency.”

Not minding to be dismissed for a change of subject, Tony promptly slid out of the nest and does a few back cracking stretches before he asks offhandedly, “So… when you say Hogun is going to test my mettle and add the bit about pack mates demonstrating and stuff… I’m guessing he’s going to run me through a gauntlet of some such?”

Tanna stops fixing his bedding set in favor of frowning again, “Your word choices are most colorful. You do not use the word by definition but rather in substitution or another hidden meaning entirely, such as your usage of the word _‘cool’_. I find it perplexing to decipher.”

Despite dressing in only a thin layer of dressing gown probably been outdated since circa nineteenth century, Tony didn’t feel uncomfortable at all when he turns to face her directly. One of the few good things about not going through heat yet is that he doesn’t have to suffer through embarrassing morning wood for long. Sadly that is the only time Tony’s been able to get an erection. 

“On Midgard, we have hundreds of languages that are spoken. New words get added to the popular lexicon all the time, including slangs, which are words that are used indirectly from its original meaning.”

With a bit of finality, Tanna nods to herself most like, and resumes her work, “Then I shall keep a list of Midgardian words and slangs as you use it, Prince Anthony. So _‘cool’_ means good and _‘run through a gauntlet’_ means?”

It’s his turn to rummage through the trunk to look for his toiletry bag and his bracelet when he replies, “It means obstacle course, a test of sorts. Is that what Hogun is planning?”

“Ah! Aye, tis precisely what is planned for the next couple of days.”

This stops Tony up short. Grabbing the stuff he needs, he straightens back up to say, “So Thor plans to court me via his pack mates? That is what I have to look forward to? Not dinner and a movie, but bruises and sweat? Man that blows.”

They now swap places, Tanna with her back facing him is placing the items he objected to away, while Tony is at the foot of the nest disrobing.

“Albeit, I can guess what _‘that blows’_ mean, what is a _‘movie’_?”

His voice comes out muffled since he just pulled the dressing gown and up and over his head, “It’s a moving picture that Midgardians created to tell a story, it has sound and everything.”

After Tony manage to slip the leather pants on, Tanna stands before him, with her eyes downcast, she hands over the thermal shirt and a crop vest, despite his objection to the jacket. After putting on the shirt, his lips twist into a moue when she meets his eyes.

“Do not pout so, my lord. You must wear something to protect your torso. Alas, I would like to see this _‘movie’_. It sounds diverting. Do Midgardians’ woo by entertainment?”

“Yeah, that’s the trend for most human cultures. It’s one of the ways to find out each other’s interest before things get too serious. We call it dating on Midgard,” comments Tony while he’s busy lacing up the vest and slips on a pair of mid-calf black boots that Tanna immediately helps adjust the buckles for a better fit.

Standing before the vanity like all the other times, Tony stares for a bit in every which way. The past days of long tunics, blousy shirts and weighty jackets and vests were too much compare to what he has on currently. The thermal shirt is just long enough to reach pass the seam of his waistband by an inch or two, thereby showcasing his butt and providing a peekaboo hint of skin when he moves about. The glow from his arc reactor didn’t even penetrate through the fabric, although the circular outline still shows. Like the previous leather pants, it is comfortable and formfitting, but instead of laces, it has a crotch flap with a side buckle that looks complementary with the low slinging belt and the pair of leather vambrace. In spite of his earlier distaste, the crop vest is the perfect fit for the ensemble. Not only did it hide the outline of the arc reactor, it doesn’t make him look bulky at the chest, but actually frames his pecks and accentuates the length of his lower torso. Tony likes. A lot.

“I like it. Can I have a few more with variations? Like a short sleeve or crop neck version? In different colors maybe? What do you think? Tanna? Tanna?”

Tony turns around and caught the look on her face. He couldn’t help the evil chuckle even if he tried. Yeah, he still got it.

Sniffing at his ridicule, Tanna primly tilts her chin up and responds with as much dignity as her red cheeks can afford her, “Certainly. In reminder, the transcript for the translations and the map you have requested are place on the table yonder. Is there anything your Highness should like my help with?”

Knowing he’d probably worn out the number of blushes he can raise from her, Tony relents and brings back a semblance of princely decorum he’s been taught with.

“Ahem. Ah, thanks. I’ll take a look at them later and yes, there is something else. Can you check whether I can convert the horse smith’s forge for my own personal use? And don’t take no for an answer. After lunch, I would like you to show me where the place is and help me tidy it up.”

“I believe there should be no objections. The horse smith and his apprentice are in part, those who were asked to vacate the castle manor. No one else should be using it during the interim. I shall escort you then, Prince Anthony.”

* * *

Breakfast is overrated.

It only took a few elves openly gawking at him that Tony sends Tanna to pack a to-go box and hightail out of the dining hall. Sure, he gets the whole being a novelty bit. Tony enjoys being the center of attention most times, that isn’t his problem. What he didn’t care for is being treated like a circus animal expected to perform tricks or some sort when none of the royals are around.

So here he is, eating on the go with a sandwich he mash together from a large piece of toast, crumbled cheese and a slab of meat that tastes like smoke ham as he nears the training grounds.

Dusting off some crumbs, Tony stood at the top of the hill looking down at the field, however calling it that would be an understatement. It looks more like a semi-circle gladiator arena sunken into the ground, complete with leveled tiers of spectator seats. Even an array of weapons adorns the flat of the East wall. 

He’d seen video footage of the dignitaries presenting their warriors to conduct their ceremonial mock fight before. The elves were fast and elegant, the dwarves were forceful and brutal, while the Krees are similar to the officers from Nova Corps, using efficient moves in combination of handheld weapons and military take down tactics.

This is the first time Tony sees the Asgardians’ fight. Even from afar, Thor’s pack mates are grunting and hacking at each other on full swing. Tony gets where the Viking bit fits in. They are holding nothing back as the clash of their chosen weapons sparks at each block and collision. While the big guy himself is leaning against the arena wall talking animatedly with an almost as tall humanoid, though minus the bulk, dress in greenish black leather trench coat. Tony briefly caught the back of the person when Tanna for some odd reason moves to stand in front of him, blocking his view. 

“Hey, what’s the big idea?”

Tony moves around her and the tall, dark stranger is gone. Scanning the area out of curiosity, the person is nowhere to be found, while the group acts like no one is there to begin with. Huh, he couldn’t be seeing things.

“Anthony! I am pleased that you are to join us!”

This is one place where Thor’s booming voice lends itself to good use in stating the obvious, but it isn’t like Tony has a choice at this point. The courting ball is in Thor’s arena and yes he’s mixing metaphors. Deal.

Taking each tier down like stairs, Tony eventually makes his way towards Thor who has moved to meet him at his end of the arena while his pack mates converge as well. Knowing the drill by now, Tony raises a hand for his Betroth to take and the big guy kisses his knuckles again before helping him down. It is when Fandral was already flanking his other side as an excuse for the same reason and placed both hands on Tony's waist.

Tony has never seen anyone move so fast before, perhaps Steve maybe. All he sees is the end pose, Thor’s other fist extended and Fandral landing flat on his back at a fifth row, out cold.

Volstagg’s belly laugh is instantly joined by the others and if Tony heard a disembodied deep chuckle nearby, no one seem to think it odd.

Forgoing the mystery for now, Tony does what he does best and offers a one liner, “I guess it’s time for his nap?”

* * *

Testing his mettle was putting it lightly when Tony returns back to his room five nights in a row completely exhausted with barely enough strength to do anything else except recover. If it weren’t for Tanna's weird bittersweet concoction she gave him every night, his muscles would have suffered from fatigue on the first day of exams. And it is all one big test in a weird pack mate hazing type of way. They each took a round with him, even Thor. 

Day one, Hogun checks his long-range skills. It was a good thing Clint taught Tony a thing or two about using a bow and throwing odd objects. That day was all about breathing and finding the right balance of the weapon, and if Tony mentally uses the laws of aerodynamics in conjunction with trajectory physics to hit his target, no one would know it was less about skills. 

Day two, Lady Sif takes all her silent rage and aims to knock him down with her staff every single time. Every time she succeeded her laughter rings over his head like an irksome wind chime. Nice to hear for the first time, but gets old quickly. So when she actually breaks his staff neatly in two, Tony quickly turns it to his advantage. He didn’t train with staffs necessarily, but escrima-fighting sticks are a different story. With the element of surprise, he finally hands her ass to the floor. Tony didn’t lord it over her and kindly offers a hand to help her up. After that she seemed to tone down her aim, which of course he’s more than grateful to eat less arena dirt.

Day three was weird. It was a one-sided wrestling match if one can even call it that. Volstagg challenged Tony that if he can knock him down with whatever weapon he chooses, he would win. What should have been a simple task turned out not so simple at all. As big and round the guy was, Volstagg hadn’t lack in speed at all, on the contrary, Tony found himself missing most of the time. And every time he did, the guy hadn't hold back on the heckling at all. Pansy. Weak knees. Starving mead worm, whatever that means. And Lady Anthony was his favorite since Sif took offense to that and knocks Volstagg down for him. He won by default.

Day four, Fandral wanted to do hand to hand combat, naked like the old tradition of yore. Suffice to say that hadn’t go so well with Thor. Nice try though. What they did end up doing was dueling with swords, and their tongues. No, not like that. Fandral’s ambidextrous skill with the sword was equally as deadly as his double entendres. Tony couldn’t help laughing at the poor guy wanting to cop a feel either. In the end, Thor allowed Fandral to shook his hand, after Tony explains it's what gentlemen do in Midgard after a fair match.

Then today, at day five, Thor does challenge Tony to hand-to-hand combat, not naked of course. Knowing how much strength the guy has, Tony knows he’s being lenient. Come to think of it, they all were. Even in fighting, Thor’s being very careful with him. It was both annoying and embarrassing in a way since it turned more into grappling verses throwing punches and kicks. Thor didn’t cop a feel per se, but there was a lot of touching in which Tony eventually collapsed on the big guy due to pure exhaustion. Just like that, the fight ends and Thor was holding him up with both arms around his waist.

Now lying in his nest, Tony drifts to sleep in hopes that the exams are finally over and he can get back to the regular scheduled program. Dating shouldn’t be this brutal.


	9. On the Prowl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/26/16

He's trapped.

Esurient eyes glow an eerie white beneath the darken canopy of the thick forest. Quickly as he could, Tony scrambles up another branch of the tree, mindful of the slippery bark from the sudden drizzle. He swings his leg to wrap around it, before hoisting himself up. That had been close. Not far in the distance, the sound of creatures baying is echo back by the large black wolf circling the trunk down below. Even to his ears, the howl has a note of certainty. No doubt the damn beast is calling for reinforcements since Tony is their next big meal.

Oh why, oh why did he thought it was such a good idea to go out exploring at his first taste of freedom?

* * *

The day had begun very much the same.

"Good morrow, Prince Anthony. Prince Thor wishes for your attendance at the East wall training field after you break your fast. There, Fandral shall continue your weapons lesson until the midday meal..."

The day before, it was Hogun in the morning for meditation and Lady Sif for physical training in the afternoon. Thor's pack mates had been taking turns. It stands to reason, Tony hadn't thought when he hoped for a regular schedule, that he would be attending Asgard Academy, at least that's what the subsequent four days had felt like. Apparently the initial tests wasn't just their idea of hazing fun, the pack had genuinely assessed his skill sets and deemed him acceptable of being a mate to a warrior Prince and pack leader. He still wondered whether he should be flattered since they're not starting him on basic training at least. Tony can't say he's a half empty or half full kind of guy, especially when he can engineer something to ensure the cup is always full or empty to begin with.

"...tis a surprise he mentioned. Thus I recommend a change of clothes prior-"

"Wait, back up. What?" That had caught Tony's attention quick as he sat up in bed.

Tanna had paused in the middle of placing two outfits for Tony to wear. One was his go-to gear of thermal-vest combo in shades of brown this time and the other was the formal red tunic he wore the first day. Was he attending something special tonight? She looked up and snorted at his bewildered expression.

"Tis rude, your Highness, when I am accounting your schedule and you ignore the content entirely."

The tall and equally annoying Pepper 2.0 was too snippy for his liking. Maybe he shouldn't have encouraged her to warm up to him. Oh who was he kidding, that was part of the fun. So Tony sassed back, "A little brevity goes a long way, sunshine. Don't bore me with the usual when you have something to highlight-"

"Highlight?"

"It means to put emphasis on a topic," replied Tony to her frequent lingo interjections without complaint before he continued, "So to highlight over that last bit, what surprise are you talking about?"

Tanna nodded like she's writing a mental list (she probably was), then sigh as if she's put out in having to repeat what Tony missed earlier, "I heard from the Cook that Prince Thor made a request to dine in his quarters and have it set for two."

"At this point of the retelling Tony had already risen and retrieved his toiletry bag, he abruptly paused at the threshold of the en suite bathroom, "...and you guess it's meant for me?"

"Tis not a guess. Prince Thor has requested specifically the honey roasted boar with melted goat cheese, fresh tomatoes, buttered onions, and raw leafy greens in between a toasted bread you so like."

Tony made to close the door at this point and leaned heavily against it. He'd read the translations by now. It was nothing more than a blue book of accepted conventions between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. There was a few smattering paragraphs mentioning the use of scent, but it was all written in such a flowery way that made him more than frustrated, especially when he asked Tanna to elaborate. Her response was that the use of scent was instinctual and overwhelming at times. Hence the fact it was not written down, much like breathing air. What Tony wanted was a biological explanation to the subject and he said as much. This had Tanna muttering something in Elfish and probably not nice. Her final reply on the matter was this: much like any ailment, only the damage or loss of it is researched and cataloged in the book of illnesses for the healers to diagnose, before suggesting perhaps Tony should get treated. Like he said, she's too snippy these days.

Regardless of the translations not being what he wanted, Tony did found the etiquette content helpful to mitigate Thor's approach to courting. According to their customs, there's a grace period in which the eligible Alpha should subject the unmated Omega to their scent as much as possible. If the Omega rejected the Alpha during this period, the betrothal will be made null and all arrangements must be dissolved. If the Omega accepted the Alpha (this was where it got flowery), the scent claim will be embraced and the occasion be marked. Tony was pretty sure the text meant an engagement since the next couple of paragraphs shifted to the topic of ceremonies wherein all weddings are blessed on the day of Beltane. Either weddings are rare or too many to count or the priestess too lazy to book so most couples had to be wed en mass. And if Beltane here is the same as it is on Earth, then May Day will be his wedding day. Given that he arrived on March fifteenth and the planet's duo lunar rotation count are in sync with Earth, Tony doesn't have long to prepare. Fuck.

So today Thor expects an official acceptance, which would lead to a legal binding engagement, which would lead to an actual ceremony, which would lead to a freakin' wedding night, which would lead to a fucking annulment the next day due to the Omega not being able to get it up. Or Thor won't care either way and take him sans heat. Tony knows for a fact that some parts of the world back on Earth that was entirely acceptable. Heck, he's had plenty of gold-digging Alphas attempt to force a bond with him in the past, it hadn't end well for all of them, not because of the law let's just say. Though he can't very well kick Thor in the balls either.

When Tony accepted to do his duty for Earth, things had obviously been set in motion. Being Thor's mate was a certainty, everything else was simply dotting the I's and crossing the T's to make it official. From the beginning, whether he can perform the deed was never a concern. It was so stupid of him to think his pleasure or his ability to produce an heir would matter, what with his short lifespan and all. After more than a full week of observing the grace period, Tony knows it's time to move to the next phase. Political unions was never about the couple's preference. At least Thor was trying, Tony had to give him that. The least he can do was meet the big guy half way he supposed.

One good thing about moving forward with the formal engagement was that he would be finally able to see Steve and his pack mates again. Wedding plans must be made and Tony will be the worst possible bridezilla in Asgard history if he doesn't get his way at least in that.

* * *

"Must you ogle my ass when I do this? Thor's standing right there you know."

Tony needn't have to turn his focus from the target a hundred feet away to know that that was exactly what Fandral was doing.

"My hands as promised are kept to myself, hence I am safe from Thor's wrath. As for your question, how else am I to observe your comely form in perfecting the proper stance? Alas, I must lament you Midgardians. To lend such foul a description to such a beautiful body part. I would prefer another word from Midgard’s' many languages. Derriere has a much better sound to it, does it not?"

It took Tony a moment to steady his body from laughing outright before he launches the javelin and misses the center by two rings.

"Again. Try loosening your grip and breathe out as you release the weapon."

Tony plucked another javelin from the stall and moved back behind the dirt line drawn on the ground before he continues their conversation.

"An ass is an ass is an ass; some asses are bigger than others and some are just sorry, but an ass by any other name is just as smelly."

Fandral's delighted chuckle may very well rivals Volstaggs's thunderous belly laugh in volume. Thor stopped chatting with the rotund man himself to note their interaction before he ignored them once again. Tony had waited until the laughter had died down before he launched another one, he missed the middle by one ring. 

"Again. Angle the shaft a tad to the right this time."

Tony grabs another and as instructed, takes his time and does just so. The javelin arc through the air and hit the target dead center with a thwack. Hah!

Triumphant over his improvement, Tony had turned to face the self-professed connoisseur of butts and received a nod of appreciation.

"Tis a good beginning. We shall redraw the line at double the distance."

Shit. Tony had been practicing all morning. It had only been the last dozen that he'd manage to hit the target even. Thank goodness for Tanna who had the presence of mind to make him wore leather gloves or Tony would have bleeding callouses by now. Even with them on, he can feel the burn let alone the muscle soreness all over his body.

"Do not look at me so. You have made tremendous improvement, Anthony. We must work to be a well-rounded warrior, tis the Asgardian way."

Never say Tony don't know what he's got or is above using it. He stuck out his lower lip and cast his eyes to half-mast before peaking up at Fandral, meanwhile wrapping his arms about his body to appear smaller for the effect to bring the whole picture into play. To stick it to the man further, Tony released a dejected groan and whines, "I'm hungry though, can't we call it a break for now?"

To his credit, Fandral subtly shifts his posture and visibly swallowed a few times before responding, his voice only crack initially, "I...of course...we must feed that hunger. Aye, to go without filling up is a travesty indeed."

Tony would have rolled his eyes if it meant not ruining the effectiveness of his ruse. As was habitual with the other, Fandral moves toward Tony but stopped short when Thor approaches. Knowing what's coming up next, Tony pasted on a warm smile and put effort to relax his stance.

"Hi Thor! We're about to break for lunch, want to come with?"

Thor smiled back in greeting before sending Fandral a nod of his head in dismissal. Tony pointedly ignores the reluctant gaze of Asgard's resident playboy. With the other gone, the Prince gets down to business fast in checking off another box on the Proclamation tally.

"Anthony, I would like the presence of your company in dining with me in private."

Not like Tony can say no at this point and resigned to his fate, "Sure thing."

* * *

It's done.

They're officially engaged and Thor's immediately gone off planet to run some princely errand or other. Back in his room, Tony had flopped backward on the nest of bedding and felt something soft shift and slid to the floor. He had rolled back up and saw the clothes Tanna had laid out now on the ground. That's right, he never got the chance to change before Thor escorted him directly his room.

It was nerve-inducing at first, given not only would he be alone with an Alpha, but within the Alpha's chamber no less. The Prince's quarters was huge, though the design was much same and decorated with more fur and various nick-knacks strewn haphazardly. There was a large dining table placed out on the balcony overlooking inland. Tony appreciated the open romantic ambience without making him feel cornered. There were several plates of food fit for half a dozen humans and Tony's plate of hamburgers, just like Tanna had said.

Always with Thor, they began chowing down in companionable silence, even though the hamburger tasted like ashes to Tony. But no, the big guy waited until he was done before popping the question. With his blood pumping double time and raging a war beat in his ears, Tony couldn't rub two brain cells together to remember what was said. What he had remember was murmuring yes and then Thor was suddenly in front of him planting a quick kiss on his lips, despite his onion breath and all. As far as kisses go, it wasn't bad though it wasn't rainbows and butterflies either. For some reason Tony felt that was less important than the greasy bearded lips pressed against his. Afterwards, Tony recalled bits and pieces of what Thor had said. Something about being too long in Alfheim...going on a hunt...in Vanaheim was it? Then something something about meeting something something.

Realization had hit him right between the eyes then. Rather than feeling elation in being free of the farce, Tony felt his frustration mounting instead. Thor had been dictating the pace ever since Tony arrived and now that he's done his duty and collected the requisite yes, the big guy had ran off with his pack mates because he's gone stir-crazy? Tony had gone stir-crazy ages ago! With all that testing and training going on, he'd hardly had a chance to get his lab space started or explored much. What about _his_ needs and _his_ wants?

Fed up with all the pretenses, Tony had sought for fresh air immediately. So with a belly full of roiling hamburgers, he shed off the foreign garbs out of spite and donned a wife beater, grey sweat pants, a red zip up hoody, and running shoes. Lastly, plugging his headphones in to cut out the world, he dashed out the doors intending for a light run.

* * *

Lo and behold, this happened. Tony knows very well the parallels of his current predicament to a certain fairytale. He hadn't stick to the path and allow his curiosity to get the better of him when he saw some lights in a distant tower that was absent on the map. That was before he stumbled upon a big ass wolf who'd chase him further away from the castle. And the irony that he's wearing a red hood just cinched it. Steve probably would say that's the story of Tony's life. Come to think of it, it might just be.

In another half hour or so, the last vestiges of sunlight will cast his surrounding in utter darkness. Tony doubts even the light from Alfheim’s two moons could penetrate the cloudy climes. To add insult to misery, the drizzle has turn into a steady downpour and along with it his hopes to escape from spending a sleepless night wet and cold up on a gnarled tree branch. The thought sends a shiver down his spine as he valiantly tries to control his shaking nerves and ragged breath. 

That damn wolf looks normal enough, Tony hopes these alien species doesn’t possess some freakish attribute like climbing trees or jumping very high. Close to the heel of that thought, Tony decides to climb a few more branches higher to be on the safe side. But considering his sore muscles, it took all his effort to focus on the task after the initial adrenaline rush had worn out.

So it is with little wonder that Tony almost lost his footing entirely when he slip after sighting a pair of black boots dangling from the branch above him. He may or may not have shrieked (most likely it was a rebel yell if he lives to recount it) given the surprising nature of the strange appearance before arms belonging to the owner of those limbs catches him easily and pulls Tony up.

It takes the person equally less effort to manhandle Tony onto straddling the same branch. Taking a moment to catch his breath from the near fall, Tony leans back against the tree trunk. Exhausted momentarily, Tony finally relieves a sigh before opening his eyes to look at his fellow tree sitter and his heart nearly skips a beat.

Concern brilliant emerald gems for eyes frame by a pale aristocratic face with high cheekbones, a straight nose, thin lips and chin length, raven tresses stares back at him. In spite of the man crouching down before him, Tony can tell he's quite tall, probably the same height as Thor but minus the bulk. The stranger is dressed in an olive green Elfish tunic, black leather pants and riding boots; other than the attire that is similar to the locals, the man was missing a few key features. So judging by the show of strength alone, he must be either Asgardian, Vanir or other.

When those concern gems soon morph into mischief and thin lips curve into a smirk, Tony belatedly realizes he may be in more danger than he thought.


	10. Once Upon a Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/26/16

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.”

As expected, that non sequitur brought the other tree occupant up short. Bushy eyebrows that look groomed once upon a time rose up briefly. So the guy understands English, that’s a plus. Now if only Tony can figure out how the heck does AllSpeak work. His current hypothesis: either it’s a linguistic technique or some type of cochlear implant. Given how low tech most of the stuff he’s seen compare to the Kree Empire and Nova Corp, the latter doesn’t seem likely. He might have to, oh Edison forbid, ask someone to explain it to him. And reasonably, not at this moment.

That rictus of a grin returns twice as wide, making Tony think somehow, he’s the butt of an insider’s joke... or someone’s dinner. At least the stranger’s teeth aren’t sharp and pointy like some of the grey skin aliens he remembered seeing at the Red Cock. Although, Hannibal Lecter needn’t have sharp teeth to do what he did.

Half expecting Green Eyes to speak up already, the lingering silence between them seems to stretch on for miles. Made all the more creepy since tall, dark and pale frowns sharply and begins leaning towards him. Thankfully there was a good three feet of space between them. Still, Tony backpedals the last few inches he had left, pressing flush against the tree trunk. He doesn’t care if Steve said it’s rude, Tony kept his wide-eye stare focus on the other. Not wanting to be surprise in any form that would chance a fall again, not that he’s afraid of heights. But the notion of falling, with possible broken bones and being eaten alive by wolves… or other… yeah, no thanks. So the other option of being stuck on a tree with who could verily be the village idiot or a potential psychopath it'll have to be. If there was a cricket-like insect somewhere chirping Tony could have sworn he heard Sir Mix-a-Lot instead.

Wait.

“Anaconda?”

“Huh?”

The other’s voice is so smooth and pleasant to the ears that it takes Tony a moment for that word and his thoughts to sync in. Mortified, Tony scrambles to find the small player in his pocket, fumbles a tad before he quickly pause and exit Clint’s playlist. Darting his eyes back up, Tony finds the stranger has one of the earbuds in his slender yet deceivingly strong hands. An earbud that is attached to long wires currently wrap around his soft tender human neck and his heart immediately tanks into his stomach.

“Could you not do that?” Tony wheeze out.

A head tilt and a perfect blank stare in response, has Tony swinging his vote closer to psychopath. Oh why, oh why does he always meet the crazy ones? If it was up to Steve, he would caution placating the stranger by building up a repoire with them. However, standard S.H.I.E.L.D. practice (otherwise known as common sense) never did work well for Tony Stark.

Swallowing a few times, Tony clears his throat before firmly stating, “Yeah, that too.”

Immediately, frown lines mar the smooth surface of the other’s forehead for a split second before he drops the earbud. Tony nods his thanks warily before he quickly unwinds the cords and shoves the device and all into his pocket. So maybe not a psychopath after all.

A snap of a twig caught both of their attention to the scene down below where the large black wolf is joined by two smaller slate color fun size man eaters. Instead of circling the base of the tree what with the rain finally dissipating, the trio took to huddling on their haunches with their tongue lolling out as if waiting for their meal to come back down. Trepidation sets in when Tony met Green Eyes worried demeanor and receives a half shrug in condolence. His fellow tree sitter then lowers himself to straddle the large branch as well and crosses both arms over his chest as if for self-comfort.

“Tis not much to hope, but are you with a search party by any chance?”

“What? No!”

Broad shoulders slump forward. Then the other turns his head away, leaving smooth pale skin from cheek to clavicle expose to the fading patches of light that broke through the leafy canopy. Tony’s heart did skip a beat then and he quickly averts his eyes.

“Oh…but I thought…I have been stranded here for days. The castle folks did not send you for me?”

Shaking his head in negation despite knowing the other’s not even looking his way, Tony scoffs accordingly.

“Heck no! Restricted area, man… er wait, who the fuck are you anyways?”

Tony shuffles back against the trunk once more when the other whips his head back around. With his chin held high and arms akimbo, Green Eyes literally looks down his nose at the shorter man.

“I am Loptr, Keeper of the Northern Tower. What manner of dull creature are you to speak to me thus?”

Snooty bastard. Dress the fancy words however one will, that was clearly an insult. Tony straightens himself up and tries his best to look down at the tall fellow while glaring upwards. He puffs out his own chest and mirrors the other’s pose for good measure.

“I am Prince Anthony Stark of Midgard and fucking outrank you, dipshit.”

Narrow beady eyes assess him for a full minute before long slender fingers were lifted to card through the other's hair. The stranger snorts before remarking, “Thou art no Prince. I have seen beggars from Vanaheim dress far more richly than you and with better manners. Most likely tis a poacher the wargs have caught in their midst.”

Tony places a hand over his own heart looking scandalized, “First of all, this is Armani. The finest threads one can buy from my kingdom. Secondly, I don’t do poach, not even eggs. Last and certainly not least, I say whatever the fuck I want and what kind of stupid ass gets stuck up a tree in his own backyard anyways?”

Tony watches in fascination when a tick beneath green eyes twitch in irritation even as a faint shade of pink dusted across a pale aristocratic nose. Thin lips then furl up with a snarl, “You insolent cur! If you must know, I was out conducting a survey of the grounds as is my duty around this time of year. That was two days ago when I stumbled upon the very same warg that chased _your_ worthless hide! Their kind are not known to wander these restricted woods. Something must have driven them here. As you can see, he and his whelps have been my constant companions since. I suppose being a Prince and all, as you say, no doubt a search party will be sent for you?”

Blinking through most of that lengthy explanation, Tony takes a long couple of minutes before exaggerating a sigh and flops back against the trunk, slumping down altogether. He sniffs then flashes his best lost puppy dog eyes before simpering, “Afraid not. Thor’s gone off world to who knows where ‘heim leaving little ol’ me to pine for his return for who knows how long. I’m not even supposed to be out here: restricted area, remember?”

Tony allow the requisite amount of time expected for the other to digest that bit of info before launching into what he does best: disconcerting people.

“Any hoot, I’m feeling a little peckish. So where’s the stash of fruits and nuts that you’ve squirreled away for the winter? And uh, can you show me where you’ve been taking a dump too? I might need to go later.”

And there it was: the break in character by the return of that wide manic grin. A deep chuckle soon follows and the sound was equally familiar as it is contagious. Tony couldn’t help but chortle in return as the pair doubles over with laughter.

Eyes sparkling with mischief once more, the man attempts to comment with much success. “You… you are utterly ridiculous! I…hahaha… I thought my performance was rather good, but yours is impeccable.”

After taking a few deep breaths, Tony wipes an imaginary tear away as he sort of manage his giggles enough to respond, “I… ah hehe… thanks! Yours was solid acting, perfect setup even! But I did warn you.”

Green Eyes lean forward, his gaze keen and sharp as one bushy brow rise up, “Indeed? I pray you tell me, what douse my ruse so swiftly?”

That was clearly a throw down of wits in an archaic sort of way. Tony leans forward as well and paste on his best shark grin for the media: challenge accepted. “Four reasons. One. You see there?”

Tony points at the distant flickering light that can be seen between a few branches less than half a mile away. 

“The clear fact that this is a restricted area and the torchlight is still on in that tower of yours. So clearly two days stuck up here is a big fat lie. Unless you are not alone in that Tower, but if that is the case, someone should have come out to look for you by now. And another thing, you look way too clean and well fed to be out here for that long.”

Green Eyes make a show of looking down at his own attire and nods in agreement.

“Very well. I applaud your deductive reasoning. What else?”

Enjoying this way too much, Tony sits back up and rubs his hands together before flashing a ‘V’ sign.

“Two. A smart cookie like yours truly would have taken the opportunity to escape once the wolfy warg thingy is charging after another meal ticket. You don’t look dumb enough to stay and help.”

Propping himself up, Green Eyes scoffs back with a roll of his eyes before deadpanning, “Your ill-concealed flattery of yourself lend either of us little credit.”

Tony shrugs in return, “In the words of you people: like hearkens like, I guess. So three.”

He points down at the wolves, where the big black one is lying down on his front paws and passing a very big yawn. While the other two are taking turns pouncing atop one another.

“As big and scary looking as they are, that picture right there is just too cute. And you’re way too chillax around them too, so obviously they’re more like your pets really. Am I right?”

Emerald gems soften just a tad when they glance down towards the wolf trio before they harden when they turn onto Tony. “Aye, perhaps. Perhaps not. You are quick to dismiss such dangerous creatures. And we hardly know each other, yet you liken yourself to me so soon? Either you are a simpleton or a babbling baboon who mistakes observations for cunning.”

“Hey now! Don’t go starting a verbal mudslinging. I can insult like the best of them. You don’t hear me criticizing your man on a tree routine. That was lame by the way. I was expecting more along the line of ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’. That would have been cool.”

It was as awkward as awkward can get knowing he’s eager to continue while the other is looking at him in that way again. Piercing green eyes set in a stony face, not responding all of a sudden. Perhaps he is babbling. Tony can’t help it though. It’s been almost two weeks since he’s had a good row with someone witty enough to trade insults with. So he makes a point to rein it in, just a tad for now. 

“So…”

Still no response.

Okay. Awkward cricket chirping silence it is. Tony began twiddling his thumbs just to be cliché.

“Four.”

Finally. Although, what the fuck?

“There were four reasons. What is the last?”

Oh, that.

“That you’re wrong. I _do_ know you.”

And up goes the aristocratic brow.

“You do?”

Tony couldn’t help the smug grin on his face spreading from ear to ear. It was the other’s turn to look wary.

“I know that you like reading in the library more than you do fighting in the arena. That you have a tendency to rescue injured animals then adopt them. That you rather enjoy a good practical joke than join Thor, Lady Stiff and the three Stooges on a camping trip. So it is only natural to think that this is another one of your jokes. Well, am I right? Prince Loki?”

As if the other’s hostility was wash away with the last of the rain drops, his whole demeanor softens to amusement.

“I like you.”

Tony may or may not have blush down to his neckline; it is hard to tell considering the fading light.

“My reputation has preceded me. However, this was all happenstance truly. The moment you stepped through the restricted perimeter, I was alerted of the trespass. Once I recognized who you were, Fenrir was sent to divert you here before you run into any danger. The latter as you have surmised, tis a jest at your expense. Asgard would be doom indeed if Thor is to wed a matching nitwit. Fortunately, he has you in spite of your foolhardy plan to escape your fate.”

Leaning forward, Tony splutters in protest, “Woah! That’s not true—"

“Is it? _Is it?_ ”

Loki raises his chin and pushes forward, forcing Tony to back away. 

“I know of you as well. Thor, my mother, my uncle; all of Alfheim has spoken about none else. Thor’s Betroth: the perfect example of a blushing docile Omega. Yet, the moment he receives your formal acceptance, you flown the coop—"

“Bull crap!” 

Tony will admit and not admit to many things, but when he commits to something or someone, it’s no laughing matter.

“Ixnay on the coop-pay. Thor left, not me. This is me getting lost while out on a walk.”

Eyes rounding with surprise, Loki straightens up then relaxes back to brace one hand on the branch behind him. His head then drops to one shoulder before a theatrical sigh is expelled. 

“Pity. My take was much more dramatic.”

Then with his other hand not brace against the branch, Loki even shoos at him with a blasé send off, “Fine. You have my blessing, go forth and be merry.”

Tony deadpans in reply, “Gee thanks. Thor and I would have eloped without it.”

With sudden interest, Loki bounces back to upright position and a smile on his face, “Truly?”

Rolling his eyes at the other’s antics, Tony scoffs back, “Of course not.”

“Again, pity,” Loki responds wistfully.

Then quick as he appeared, Loki begins to climb down with much ease for a man so tall.

“Hey, wait! Hold up!”

Not wanting to be left behind, Tony follows suit. Clambering down wasn’t as bad as climbing up with his tired limbs thankfully. As soon as his feet firmly touch the ground, two growling fur balls, each the size of a full grown timber wolf immediately pounces on him. Tony stops breathing entirely as he stand stock still as four paws lock him into place.

“Oh…um hey Loki…. They don’t really bite, right? Baby wolves with sharp teeth and all?”

Tony gave his best puppy dog eyes to help him out, although probably not his best performance with him grimacing as the baby wolves trying (and succeeding) to lick his face and Loki doubling over with laughter. 

“I’m glad I can amuse you. Now a little help, please?”

Tony had to endure several broad swipes of wolf tongue before Loki pull himself together long enough to intervene. He suspects the other took longer than necessary.

“Skoll. Hati. Desist.”

Amazingly, the fur balls of energy drop their paws and sat back on their haunches. Sagging with relieved tension, Tony shakily side steps his way around them and makes his way towards Loki only to stop short a few feet when he hears the big black adult one rumble with warning.

“Um…”

Loki soothes a hand down the black wolf’s mane and the rumbling changes altogether to one of enjoyment.

“Make no threatening movements and you shall be well. Fenrir will lead you back to the path.”

Tony resumes his way towards the far side of Loki and his pet wolf and stops short upon hearing that. Alone with the scary big black wolf?

“Not awesome. Can’t you do it?”

Turning around to face him, Loki frowns before stating matter-of-factly, “Tis best that you not be seen with one such as myself escorting you back towards the castle.”

Tony is getting a neck crank. Damn freakishly tall Asgardians.

“Why?”

Loki’s puzzled expression probably match his own, when the other spoke slowly in response as if Tony should know this, “Your virtue would be in question… and examine quite thoroughly were we to be seen publicly.”

“Oh.”

It finally dawn on Tony, the rules of engagement mention within the blue book translation pages and what Loki is saying.

“You’re an Alpha?”

After a moment of stunned silence, Loki states in response, “You cannot tell.”

It wasn’t a question but Tony nods in return before explaining, “I thought you were a Beta considering how compose you are around me…”

At this point, Loki dips his head briefly before flashing Tony a wry grin, “As you can see, looks can be deceiving.”

Stepping backwards, Loki motions for Fenrir to follow.

“Skoll and Hati shall take you back to the path. Have care, little Omega.”

When Loki turns around and walks in the direction of the Northern Tower, Tony realize he was being dismissed and calls after him.

“Loki, wait!”

That only pause the second Prince in his steps. Without turning around, Loki looks over his shoulder and inquires instead, “Aye?”

It will have to do.

“It was nice meeting you.”

Tony wish he could see the other’s face. Luckily, he can still hear the humor radiating from Loki’s voice after he retorts with a snort of amusement, “Likewise, however please adhere to the castle walls from now on. You are fortunate that I discover your trespass prior to alerting the guards. Otherwise, the current freedom you clearly so enjoy will be significantly curtailed in the future.”

When Loki makes to resume his steps, Tony stalls him again.

“When will I see you again?”

“You wish to?”

Loki sounded surprise, which in turn cause Tony to speak in earnest. See, he always did maintain that he wasn’t shy either. 

“Yes. Believe me, you are the most fun I had talking with since coming here aside from Mortan.”

However, the response he heard back sounded much too formal for Tony’s liking.

“I am flattered; however since we are not properly introduced, tis best to allow the traditions to pass before we reconvene.”

And just like that, the anomaly call Loki gets suck into the night and Tony is left with two eager wolf cubs with eyes aglow in the darken forest.

“Shit, when the heck did it get so dark?”


	11. Back in Black, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 9/16/16

Like a truant student returning to the dorms after curfew, Tony Stark found it surprisingly easy to sneak back behind the castle walls and head back to his quarters with none the wiser. Was security always this lax? That thought didn’t linger; instead of looking a gift horse in the mouth, Tony continues treading in the shadows until he reached the entrance to his room. Rather than hurried inside though, he pushed open just a tad to peak through the cracks and having found no traces of Tanna, immediately throws his weight forward then quickly back to close the double doors. Sagging with relief, he takes a moment for the sudden adrenaline rush to settle down. 

He felt energized. Like he gotten away with something naughty, dangerous even. In a way, Tony supposed he did. The gossip columns on Alfheim (if they’re anything like Earth’s tabloids) would probably have a field day if they found out. He can see the headline now: _‘Midgardian Prince Secret Rendezvous Revealed!’_ It wouldn’t surprise him one bit. After all he’s been caught before doing much worse or at least what looks like much worse. But then again, instead of bailing him out, old Nicky would probably have his head on a platter this time for screwing up the Alliance Treaty at this juncture.

No matter, Tony left with anger in his wake and came back with feelings of…triumph? No, not quite. More like…liberated! 

Yes, that!

Such a strange feeling it was. Not like Tony was a prisoner here on Alfheim or anything. However, his old therapist back on Earth would probably say otherwise given the dreams of being trapped, drowning, and falling he’s been having for the past month or so. Almost always, two out of those three, he’s in his Iron Man suit while in action. Only the dreams when he’s drowning did he felt completely defenseless. Always in a dark cave somewhere, hands tied or held behind his back and forced head first into a trough of water. Sometimes he would break free and fight, but most times he would wake with his lungs on fire. Tony didn’t need her interpretative skills to know what that meant. He’s read enough on the subject on his own thanks. This was different though. He’s made his choice in life and will forge his own path no matter where it takes him. It was time for his Betroth to meet Tony the Mechanic.

Thor would not know what hit him!

_‘No Alpha wants an overachieving Omega, Tony.’_

Obadiah’s words, always an echo of Howard’s own, verve its ugly head and threaten to wash Tony’s newfound resolve as waves on a sandcastle. Tony shook them off like a wet dog and readily aims his focus on other things.

Luckily, Tanna had been true to her word and heeded his request for more privacy once Thor and his pack mates had left. She had been through his room though, judging by the straightening of the beddings and the fresh selection of clothes spread out for him. The silky blue garment was similar to the one she’d chosen for Tony to meet Thor with. 

Was there another official dining to be had? Once again, Tony shook his head of wandering thoughts in favor of more pressing matters. If he looks as bad as he smells, he’s probably not fit to be seen by whatever panjandrum he was to attend to without Thor.

Tony toed off his muddy sneakers and eagerly began shucking his damp and dirtied garments on his way to the en suite bathroom. He’d been warding off chills for the past half hour and only the thought of a hot bath (in spite of the recent recall of drowning) was within reach kept him going. That whole fairytale experience should have been weird, but considering all that had happen to him in the past two weeks, that fit right in between goat drawn chariots and residing on an alien planet as far as Tony’s concern. Other than initially being scared shitless and ending with treading wet foliage in the cover of near blinding darkness, sure, he would definitely recommend Alfheim’s woodland trails as a tourism package.

For the most part, Tony felt no trepidation with the wolf pair as escorts. Maybe it was foolhardy of him, or perhaps on an Omega’s instinctual level, Tony somehow trusted Loki’s assertion that these pet wolves will take care of him.

As playful as they were under Fenrir’s watchful eyes, the pair had seem less so. Not a growl came from either of them when they pad along the makeshift trail quietly as could be. Every little sound seemed louder than it ought to; especially the occasional twig snapping under Tony’s own weighted footsteps now and then. Tony even apologized (as a joke at one point) seeing how every time and again they would pause their trek to sample the suppose threat. In turn, he received a snort from one of them for his effort. He may not own or interact much with the typical pet or any animal in general, but Tony is fairly sure most of them aren’t supposed to respond back like that.

Slipping into the hot bath with a grimace, Tony let loose a string of curses that gradually grew in volume until all of his nearly numb skin is submerged into what felt like scalding water. After a few unbearable moments he sagged against the round river stones and sigh in appreciation.

* * *

He was probably late to whatever it was. One can never tell considering how much time the residents here spend in the dining hall, wherein one meal tends to blend into the next. 

Freshly bathe and thoroughly scrubbed, Tony rushes down the corridor while straightening the pale blue Elvin tunic into place. Moments later, he slips into the dining hall and stands at the threshold to take in the proceedings. It had been awhile since the protocol was waived by Thor escorting him throughout the day. Tonight was a different matter.

There sitting three seats left of King Frey, dressed in a simple white tunic and outer robe was a wizen looking elf with an equally as white and whimsy Fu Manchu. Ambassador Larien, the leading representative of the eight realms and the outer rim in the Alliance. Tony has never met him in person, but he’s resourceful enough to be privy beyond what old Nicky would tell him. The old elf looks twice older than King Frey who still has a mop full of gold ringlets like his sister. According to classified documents the Ambassador and his retinue should still be on Earth relaying plans and preparing for the next summit.

After receiving the prerequisite nod from King Frey, Tony took his usual seat next to Queen Frigga. She hugs him in greeting with whispered words of _‘welcome, my son’_ to his ears before turning away, her trailing soft giggles the only indication of her mischief. Tony refused to acknowledge the blushing mark of her handiwork and wait for her to make the official introductions with their new addition. After exchanging nods and pleasantries, the Ambassador addressed a topic Tony was dreading.

“Prince Anthony, I understand congratulations are in order?”

Hoping to keep that particular topic at the bare minimal Tony kept his response short, “Thank you, Ambassador.”

Unfortunately, Queen Frigga was not deterred as she joined the conversation.

“Tis a formality but nonetheless, Thor should be in attendance instead of gallivanting across the realm with a mere rumor of marauders cited in Vanaheim. After all, there is much to discuss in regards to the wedding preparations.”

Wedding plans?

Fuck the holy trinity of Physics! If there was ever a topic Tony wanted to talk less about other than his engagement and wedding night, it was wedding plans. 

“Sister, take heart. If young men such as Thor, so full of vim and vigor, wishes to entertain such rumors, so be it. Our home world and Anthony should benefit all the more for it, what with Thor mellowed both in my court and in the marriage bower. Moreover, wedding preparations are the bride’s concern.”

Marriage bower!? Bride!? Tony was proud that the internal squeak he released was not audible to any other and attempted to change the subject a.s.a.p.

“So, Ambassador Larien… what brings you here to Alfheim?”

Okay. It wasn’t his smoothest transition seeing as how both the Ambassador and Frigga raise their brows at him with varying degrees of amusement. Only King Frey chortle out loud at his expense, that old dog. Luckily without further comment, the King merely raise his golden goblet and took a sip. Tony took that as his lifeline to continue and smiles widely at the Ambassador in encouragement.

With a wry smirk beforehand, the Ambassador decidedly play along, “My King has graciously permitted me to _‘take a vacation’_ as you Midgardians would say. Now that the next phase in the Alliance has run along quite smoothly and has no further need of my machinations, I can finally be at ease knowing that that brat from Hammer Tech is no longer a valid candidate.”

Tony can safely say, after a bit of coughing from his spit-take, that the Ambassador has really good timing. Tanna was quick to clean the mess and refill his goblet of bittersweet pick-me-up while Tony recovers. 

The smile he flashes was all teeth before Tony remark back in kind, “Somehow I can’t say I’m relieved, in knowing that Justin Hammer was my immediate replacement should Thor and I not work out.”

Returning with his own thoughtful look, the Ambassador states pointedly, “You and I both, Prince Anthony. And yet, your Army and Naval countrymen were his strongest advocates after that debacle with Obadiah Stane. Were it not for your recent innovations and heroic exploits, Odin All-father would not have approved you above all and allow none to oppose his judgment. You should feel honored, my Lord.”

Tony set his jaw firmly and gave the shrewd elf a much more in depth scrutiny. Old Nicky sure has been busy telling tales. Tony suppose it was nice to know that he had the All-daddy’s approval, not that he needed it or want it. Howard and Odin can suck it, the decision was still his.

“As I would hope, my father-in-law should be honored with the higher probability of smarter and better looking grandchildren.”

And naturally, Queen Frigga’s interjection was spot on, “Aye, how Odin and I long for grandchildren! But first, we must make plans. Anthony, what say you to commencing the marriage ceremony here on Alfheim? It would be most romantic, would it not?”

Tony still has his eyes locked with the Ambassador’s when her words caught his attention. After receiving a slight nod from the old elf, Tony verves his gaze to meet the Queen’s expecting ones.

“Um, the wedding… Here? But I thought… What of Asgard?”

The Queen’s face lit up with approval as she made sense of his jumbled question, “My dear, tis sweet of you to think of Asgard and her people. For the past thousands of years: as with Borr and Bestla, Thor’s grandfather and grandmother and my own excellent father and mother, Njord and Skadi; as with Frey and Gerd, as with Odin and myself, there has been a precedence of royal marriages being conducted elsewhere. One can say: tis tradition even. So worry not, Asgard will have her fair share of celebrations and merriment once the marriage has been blessed by the Norns.”

Put it that way, Tony didn’t really have any problems with her suggestion. He rather have the ceremony on Earth but that idea probably won’t fly, so might as well do it at a neutral and familiar setting like Gimlé.

“In that case, I have no objections except I like to request that my pack mates from Midgard be part of it. They are the only family I have left and I would love to have them all here for support.”

Tony decided to be blunt before shifting gear to temper tantrum. Thankfully, that was enough to convince Frigga, judging by how motherly her demeanor turned.

“Oh, Anthony. Of course, you shall have all the support you need.”

Tony’s beaming response was cut short when he noticed the Ambassador’s disapproving headshake and just knew his parade was about to be rained on. 

“Your Majesty, if I may advise on such?”

Queen Frigga turns to the Ambassador and gave him a nod in permission.

“The pack mates our young lord has allied with are called the Avengers. They are a special task force spearheaded by their commander supreme, Nick Fury.”

“Oh, any shield brothers and sisters of Anthony are certainly welcome. Thor would be delighted by the addition.”

With a daggered piece of unknown meat dip in some unknown sauce held like a popsicle in his mouth as he chewed, Tony peaked out from Frigga’s beautiful golden head and gave Ambassador Larien a warning glare in which the old elf looked right at him, winked, and commented rather dryly, “Aye, unfortunately, therein lies the problem. The Avengers consists entirely of a band of misfit Betas and Omegas and is led by an Omega captain. Tis unsupportable, your Majesty.”

“Nonsense!”

Frigga’s hackles were definitely raised judging by that tone as she turn towards King Frey and made her opinions known.

“Any warrior regardless of their distinction is welcome in the halls of Valhalla. I do not see why we should accept any less.”

Wisely enough, Tony kept his mouth shut and continues chewing his food as he observe the political byplay, scanning from face to face to face. Even as the meat was swallowed and his goblet empty, when Tanna made a move to refill it he shooed her off for blocking his way.

If there ever was a beauty pageant for best poker face, King Frey has Nick Fury and Loki beat for the title. Tony understood the maneuver all too well; these elves take their rules of engagement very seriously judging by how he’s been treated so far. 

It didn’t take long before the King said his piece.

“Tell me, Prince Anthony, are any of your pack mates bonded?”

“Yeth!”

Surprised by the direct formal address, Tony almost dropped his knife when he shot right off his seat and clumsily fumbled with the sharp object before placing it next to his plate. Seeing as all eyes are now zone in on him since all conversations in the dining hall had stop, awkwardly, he sits back down and turn to address the King. Taking care to swallow whatever remains of food he had left in his mouth prior, Tony gulps down a nervous giggle that threaten to leak out and replies. 

“Yes, sir. Hawkeye, a Beta archer has bonded recently to an Alpha-femme who has also joined the team.”

“Does she now lead the pack?”

“No, your Highness.”

That seem to catch King Frey by surprise if his rounded eyes were an indication.

“She willingly follows an Omega?”

Never let it be known that Tony Stark doesn’t think before he speaks, in this case, it only took a moment of hesitation right as he bit his lip when he go for broke.

“We all do, sir. Willingly that is, follow my Uncle Steve into battle. He is a capable leader and earned the title of Captain America by my kingdom. I do not know of any who would _not_ stand with him on the front lines.”

Yes, Tony Stark is capable of making a rousing speech since this immediately causes chatter to pick up at a heighten level of excitement. It also helped that Steve was nowhere near to hear his endorsement. However upon seeing the intrigued look on the King’s face, with a sudden dread, Tony wonders briefly whether he’s just thrown Steve under the bus again.


	12. Back in Black, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 11/29/16

King Frey didn’t respond immediately as it were his attention was caught elsewhere Tony noted. A messenger had snuck in the dining hall sometime during his little speech and had relayed a message to one of the guards. It wasn’t much of an interruption as far as distractions went Tony thought, however when the King deem to respond, it was very short and decisive.

“Then I look forward to meeting such a paragon.”

That sound awfully like an end of topic statement. How anticlimactic was that? Judging by the crowd’s reaction earlier, one would have thought he revealed an exposé on the Avengers or something. Granted it’s not rare for people of different race, sex, and distinction to break the mold back home, there are still pockets of the world where some cultures still enforce traditional submissive roles for Betas and Omegas. It wouldn’t faze him one bit if Asgard, Alfheim, and the other realms were the same. With these long-lived folks, such out-of-date traditions most likely are still in practice for hundreds if not thousands of Earth years. Advance beings equal to stagnating genetic and social evolution.

So Tony had expected and was looking forward to dishing out the details to these backwater elves on modern twenty-first century ideals. He could even throw together a proper slideshow modeled after the sensitivity training SHIELD made him take. Maybe Steve can teach the course when he arrives. Then it dawn on Tony that he will be reuniting with his pack mates soon and that bolster his spirits like nothing else. 

For now, he is satisfied that the King has given his approval and his word is law. No objections were made during his brief internal musing and the castle folks had reverted back to their regular scheduled medieval partying. Shrugging his shoulders, Tony eyes the table for some form of desert that didn’t include meat, honey or cream. He would settle for some cake, pie or cookie even. Pouting at the lack thereof, Tony resolve to rectify that and add it to his agenda. That mental list had been growing ever since he came back from the woods and Tony is very much looking forward to implementing most of them.

No more than ten minutes later, the King gave the signal for the night’s entertainment to begin. It was a tad too early compare to the past week. When most eyes were turn towards the makeshift stage in the dining hall, Tony understood why. That same guard he noticed earlier now has the King’s ear. Even though King Frey’s calm demeanor never faltered, his abrupt rise from his seat quickly triggers all the residents at court to do so as well. After giving his sister a nod in parting, the King leaves with his retinue in toll. None dared to comment on his quick departure as they resume their attention to the night’s entertainment.

“With Prince Thor more military minded than most within the Council would like, we shall make a proper politician out of you yet.”

Gah!

It was a near miss, dropping his ass on the floor would have been the third time that night he made a fool of himself. Tony is beginning to dislike being the recipient of the Ambassador’s comedic timing. After pasting on a not so warm welcome smile, Tony turns to face the lounging Ambassador, who apparently has taken the opportunity to appropriate the seat next to him that was reserved for Thor. For a seemingly old elf, his movements were as stealthy as any seasoned soldier. Or ninja. 

Ooh, a ninja elf!

However entertaining as that thought was, he shoves the off the wall mental picture out of his head. Curious as to what angle the old elf was aiming at, Tony responds with a hint of humility or the equivalent thereof, “I highly doubt that.”

See unlike _Howard_ Stark, _Tony_ Stark can do humble.

And that doesn’t seem to matter, Ambassador Larien continues to share his opinion as if he’d only paused for breath and Tony hadn’t spoken a single word, “Though we have never met properly until now, I have been following your progress from a _persona non grata_ to _vox populi_ in a span of four Midgardian years. Rather a remarkable feat I must say for one so young, smart, and better looking.”

Notwithstanding his initial annoyance in hearing his own words used to mock him, Tony couldn’t help but be impressed by the old elf coming off as both a witty critic and a benign fan it would seem.

“Your command of Earth’s lingo ain’t bad but for such an old fart, you sure don’t mince words do you?” commented Tony offhandedly, his end smirk punctuating the effect far more than his tone.

“Anthony!”

Oh, right. The Queen was sitting at his other side and the reproof on her face, although kind was also disapproving. Tony bows his head and make quick work of reeling his cheeky tongue back in after a fake clearing of his throat.

“Ahem, my apologies.”

Thankfully, the Ambassador was quick to come to his rescue, “No apologies necessary, your Majesties. I would applaud Prince Anthony’s adaptability as well and find his choice of words most refreshing. It certainly reminds me quite fondly of young Loki when he was under my tutelage centuries ago.”

Upon that name drop, Tony takes his cue from the Ambassador and leans in with sudden interest. With glimmer of wistfulness in his eyes, the old elf stage whispers in a conspiratorial manner, “You see, he was rather liberal with his insults and quite inventive. My favorite still is _‘you mewling quim’_.”

“My Lord, please!”

Given how nostalgic those words were spoken, the naughty meaning behind it, and the immediate interjection from the Queen, Tony couldn’t contain the loud snort that erupted or the sniggering soon after. He could very well picture Loki delivering those exact words in that haughty manner of his.

His enjoyment was quickly quashed when Frigga berates them further, “You three are too much alike and Norns forbid, when the time comes for this unholy trinity to meet. The Nine Realms shall never recover.” 

Tony had to bite his lip from replying with something far more fatalistic given her exaggeration. He was actually looking forward to such a meeting and wisely chose not to give her any ideas to prevent it. Daringly the Ambassador cared not one jot, which made Tony actually longed for the day when old age can excuse any improper behavior of his own. 

With a wizened hand extended in a placating manner, the old elf pleads his case, “I beg your pardon, your Majesty, but by all means the legacy of a Master Word-smith must be continued. Instead, the Nine Realms _should_ rejoice upon my discovery of another apprentice in the making. I believe the convergence of such a holy trinity will in fact cause all to weep and be awed by our collective brilliance.”

If Tony is not mistaken, somewhere in that load of bull, the Ambassador had just offer him an internship of sorts. How ‘bout that?

Although, judging by how reticent Queen Frigga look, Tony’s chances all but plummeted. Her oncoming rebuke would confirm it.

“Aye, I have no doubt most shall weep. Not by the brilliance of your combine words, rather the sharpness of it. Your influence is enough for one poor son of mine… yet I hesitate to grant you the privilege to hone another.”

Huh, maybe not. If that’s the case, Tony opt to tip the scale.

“Um, ma’am, diplomacy has never been my strong suit and from what I know of Thor… well, maybe it might benefit us both?”

Maybe Tony wasn’t being as subtle as he thought when her expression shifted with suspicion. That look was all too knowing and familiar. It must run in the family. However, the edge of her lips did threaten to turn upwards and so he encourages her with his own eager one.

Tony knew he had won the moment she shook her head in defeat, “Aye, I yield. You have my consent. Luckily, Thor has practice flyting with his brother to be adept in fencing with your unruly tongue.”

Damn Fandral and his double entendres. The healthy image her words provoke and the memory of Thor’s kiss earlier did little to staunch the rise of color on his cheeks. Now was certainly not the time for naughty thoughts since the curious looks from both future mother-in-law and mentor was not something Tony would provide an explanation to any time soon. A diversion was in order. He reached for his cup and took a long gulp before pretending to enjoy the minstrel on stage for a moment.

“So, ahem… I’ve been doing some reading and…um, I understand that most weddings in Alfheim are done on the day of Beltane? If so, it’s only less than two months away and I could really use my pack mates’ support soon.”

Okay. Maybe that was about as subtle as a celebutante not wearing undies coming out of a low seated sports car. Still, Tony had to start somewhere. And the look shared amongst the two he’s sandwiched between was not exactly encouraging.

“Oh, don’t tell me they have to apply for a VISA at an Elvish Embassy or something? How much red tape are we talking about here?”

Eventually it was the Ambassador who broke the silent impasse. Good thing too since Tony was about to blow a lid since he can feel the big giant _‘BUT’_ there somewhere. He would have laughed at his own joke if the topic wasn’t so serious.

“Were your old pack consisted of all mated pairs, the arrangements would be made simple. Were they consisted of unmated Alphas and Betas, the usual precautions would be put in place. Were they consisted of unmated Omegas, as of now there are no proceedings for such. Your presence here, Prince Anthony, is an exception to the rule rather than the norm.”

Just as he thought, more archaic rules meant to put Omegas in their place. With taut fists locked on his lap Tony dipped his head not in defeat but to hide the threat of tears in his eyes. Having to jump through so many hoops just to meet Thor, he’ll do whatever it takes for the only family he has left.

“On Midgard, there is a custom in which the Omega’s parental figure gives them away in the ceremony. Even if you don’t have that custom, what do I have to do to get my Uncle Steve here to see me wed? It would mean a lot to me.”

Now he’s done it. Tony must look truly pathetic for Frigga’s face to crumble with so much sympathy at his words. Ever the graceful Queen and concern mother figure, Frigga reaches out in a silent plea to cup his face. Her hand hovers patiently for his permission. It was an odd request, though Tony didn’t want to seem disrespectful. With barely a visible nod, he allows it.

He hadn’t expect anything to become of the gesture, but the rush of tenderness cocoons his entire body and he couldn’t help but close his eyes and succumb to the feeling. The outside world melts away even as her forehead gently touches his and the sweet scent of her breath ghosts across his cheek. Tony felt overwhelm by the sudden onslaught of tranquility, yet he would gladly drown in it.

Then confusion subverts the calm when she whispers as if from afar even though she’s right there, “I forget how relatively young you are despite such hardships you have already endured even as you triumph over your adversities. Tis not an easy path the Norns have paved for you and my son, yet the journey will have its own reward. Love him; guide him; be the companion, the solace my son dearly needs as he shall be yours in return.”

* * *

That was Weird, with a capital _‘W’_ weird.

It was a quiet trek back to his quarters after experiencing what he felt was a… religious experience in lack of a better description, not that he believes in the Norse myths these people inspired by the by. He couldn’t remember much during their weird cuddle session, only afterwards. Ambassador Larien had disappear and Queen Frigga seemed none the worse for wear. In fact, she was smiling and clapping when the minstrel began another one of those epic poems song-telling. While Tony was busy coming out of some drug induced lethargy after eating one too many pot brownies. Not that he had experience with those, much. Chalking up the entire experience to bad indigestion and sleepiness, Tony uploads the whole episode into the backburner of his mind to reflect upon later. A lot later, when he doesn’t feel so disembodied.

It didn’t occur to Tony to take the same precautions he did earlier in the evening; otherwise he could have save his bleeding eardrums the trouble of deafening it. In all fairness, the gentle push of his bedroom doors shouldn’t have warrant the subsequent ear-splitting screech that put him at full alertness.

Tony dives forward, tucks and rolls behind the stone table as both gauntlet hands were extended and fully charged before he even takes his surroundings into account. There, a few steps from the en suite bathroom stood Tanna clutching the remnants of his dirty clothes as if she’s seen a ghost. Contrary to popular description, her complexion was nothing near white, but a ruddy red. All the colors must have pour onto her face and neck from the exertion of that sudden scream. Seeing no immediate threat, Tony powers down and reverts his weapon back to form.

As he straighten up and dusts himself off, Tony happily gave her a piece of his mind, “You can’t do that kind of shit—aaah!”

“Eeeeeeek!”

Jumping back a few steps, Tony covers his ears this time until the racket stop. She looks just as startled as he was and thankfully has the good grace to look embarrassed. As she should be. He slowly lowers his hands and warily approaches Tanna as if she was some skittish animal. At this rate, Tony isn’t taking any chances. His earlier daze has been completely blown over.

“Mind telling me what that was all about?”

Tanna takes a deep breath, chokes on it somehow then quickly drops the clothes in her hands as if they were on fire or something. Frowning at her behavior, Tony lectures on, “Word of advice sweetheart, scaring the Midgardian with a heart condition is a very bad idea. Just saying. So mind telling me what got you screaming bloody murder?”

She ducks her head then whispers, “You did.”

“Me?” Surprise barely describe all the shit Tony was currently feeling.

Quick as a whip, Tanna raises her head and glares as politely as she could at a foreign prince, “Aye. I intended to _‘pop in’_ and tidy a bit prior to your arrival as is my wont. However the moment I was inside, the stench of wargs overpowered me.”

“Oh…um, how exactly…” It was quite natural that Tony’s spoken words and his thoughts of _‘oh shit, busted’_ were disconnected.

“Tis all over your clothes,” concern tinge with accusation was clear in her voice.

That’s when it finally dawn on him that she could actually pick up the smell of those wolves even if it had been several hours ago. 

“Wow. That’s some pretty powerful schnauzer you got there. It’s like super smell isn’t it for all you guys?”

With all jokes aside, Tony worried if she could smell his encounter with Loki. Although, if she did she would have mentioned it by now. Thinking back, Loki only helped Tony briefly onto the branch while the mini wolves licked him all over. Ah, that would explain it. On the heel of that thought, came an epiphany. The phrase _‘scent claim’_ in relations to his courtship took on a whole new meaning.

Suddenly feeling lightheaded, Tony walks toward the chaise and sags against the base. It all made sense. The hand holding, the kissing, the brief touches here and there; in addition the prevention of Fandral or any Alpha-Betas from doing the same. It must be some territorial Alpha male ritual, another archaic rule in their society to follow. For good reason, Tony shudders at the thought of being covered in someone, anyone’s scent.

“Tis what we were born with,” Tanna responds with an uppity tilt to her head despite the lingering worry on her demeanor. Determination soon sets in and she joins Tony to sit on the floor, facing him with her robe covered knees folded behind. Unrelenting in her quest, she prods him a bit further like a dog with a bone (or Pepper Potts at a Louboutin sale), “Prince Anthony, how did you come about the heavy scent of wargs?”

It just so happen he has an answer ready, even if it was all improvisation, “Funny you should mention that. Right after Thor left, I decided to go out for a walk. You know, get some fresh air, checkout the scenery, stuff like that. No biggy. So I was on this trail (very much within the boundary you outlined by the way) minding my own business when these two _huge_ grey wolves brushed pass me chasing after something small and fuzzy. They bowled me over, one even growled before they sped off. Seriously, I thought I was their dinner for a moment and thanked my lucky stars. I just figured maybe wolves here don’t eat humans.”

He shrugs at the last part, not wanting to over sale the story too much. Subreptitious truth makes the best lies Tony found. 

Tanna’s response was slow in coming and her delivery was even slower, “Truth be told…they probably would. Wargs are not known to be discriminating. However, the ones you have encountered are grey, did you not mention?”

After receiving a nod in confirmation from Tony, immediately she releases a sigh in relief before explaining in a much faster pace, “then most likely you have met the whelps of Fenrir, Prince Loki’s pet warg. They are somewhat tame and will not hurt you unnecessarily. You are fortunate, my Lord.”

Tony gave her statement the proper amount of time to mull over even as he realize the horror of what it could have been. Okay, maybe he _was_ lucky, more so to have encounter Loki in the process. Now that he thought about it, earlier even though he stayed with Frigga after she did that _Weird_ thing she did, his mind was too hazy to ask more about her second son. 

“Hey, Tanna. Does that mean Prince Loki is actually here at Gimlé?”

Even though Tony knows the answer, her shrug told him the extent of her knowledge, which was a total bummer if you ask him. 

“Prince Loki comes and goes whenever he chooses… though I have seen him visit my mentor once in a while and only joins the royal court when Lord Larien is attending. And oh, he makes a habit of touring the royal library every summer and keeps mainly to himself.”

It took a moment for Tony to catch up to Tanna actually rambling on and on about something besides her duties and studies. Despite her professional tone, those key details, and the fond look in her eyes was a dead giveaway. The smile that brightens his face was all evil.

“Do I smell a crush?”

Aha! The blush on her face said it all despite her instant denial, “Nay! Of course not. Besides your sense of smell is atrocious.”

“Methinks, the lady doth protest too much.”

* * *

The next morning, Tony insisted Tanna introduce him to the kitchen staff. There he campaigned to fix the menu to his liking. Well, more like demand that his taste buds be met. However, that particular task on his agenda was easier said than done for the head cook was as headstrong as any chef of a five Michelin star restaurant. It took him all morning but he managed to insult her dignity and pride enough to accept the challenge of making foreign meals.

“That went well,” Tony mocks to his bedroom in general as he flop backwards onto the chaise with one leg thrown over the backrest, another angled to the floor, and his head dangling off the foot end. At that moment in time, with his vision turn upside down, decorum was the furthest thing from his mind. It was easy to ignore Tanna’s disapproving shake of her head as she shut the doors behind her and began tidying his room. Whatever, Tony could totally afford to stop acting like a prince at least for a few days.

He’s gone and done his duty. Tony Stark, the linchpin to the Alliance Treaty, has kept his end of the bargain and officially agreed to marry Thor Odinson as specified in the terms from the Proclamation. Howard should be proud. His son is marrying a supposed Norse god after all. The Stark legacy will go down as part of myths and legends.

As if. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about his dad’s legacy. It was a sacrifice move from Tony’s own playbook: ensuring the protection of seven billion lives in the upcoming war for one hand in marriage to begin with. Then afterwards, Earth gets to join the known worlds and will have help to resolve their petty wars, growing population, diminishing resources, health pandemics and toxic pollution problems to name a few. Steve was right; it was a small price to pay on his part.

But for right now, with no more distractions, it was time to put the rest of his plans into action. Finally! Too excited for words, Tony uses his legs to pilfer an embroidered cushion pillow thingy and jackknives his body to grab it with both hands, before returning to his earlier position as he squeezes the living daylights out of the pillow to release some of his pent up energy in having won the kitchen wars.

“Shall I leave you two alone, your Highness?”

Arrested in his antics, Tony reposition the throw pillow low enough to glare from beneath it. From the looks of her, his current P.A. was having a hard time trying not to laugh as she even bit her lip to prevent the sound from coming out.

Due to Steve’s incessant lectures, he begrudgingly sat up and lounges against the back rest instead, though still not relinquishing the pillow from his hold as he rests his chin atop it. It was too comfy he reason then just to be cheeky he gave Tanna a wink before saying, “Maybe later.”

She only shook her head and waits primly with her hands folded loosely at her waist level. 

Oh right, plans! 

There were too many ideas competing in his head. Distractedly, Tony raise a finger to what hopefully be a universal sign of _‘wait a minute’_ and not the _‘birdy’_ equivalent on Alfheim. The crease on his brow deepens for a few minutes before they flew up immediately. Donning a lopsided grin, Tony leers up at Tanna, “Take lots of notes, sunshine. ‘Cause today is gonna be a brand new day and little Tony is coming out to play.”

Her puzzled frown only has Tony’s grin widen even further.


	13. The Good, the Bad, and the Smelly, Part I

“ _That_ is a lot of horse shit.”

The ramshackle, poop smelling, dark and dank subterranean sorry excuse for a horse-smith’s forge looks better on paper. The fact that it rained yesterday didn’t help to advertise the circular real estate either. He wasn’t expecting a chateau villa in Italy per se, but a medieval squalor of all things? No way could it be sanitary and yet, this is what Tony has to work with. Even with his human nose, the stench of wet hay mix with horse shit makes him want to up chuck his breakfast of faux Denver omelet. Cook would definitely be upset if she found out after all the criticism he put her through to get it somewhat decent. It wasn’t Steve’s cooking but Tony couldn’t have all his hard work back fire.

“Indeed, sir,” remark Tanna as professional as could be after giving him a look for stating the obvious.

At their exchange, a few giggles erupts from behind them. Ah, yes. Their little audience. With Thor gone, most of the dozen elves Tanna has gathered for his cause have been fangirling him for lack of a better description. How else could one describe the constant ogling and giggling wherever he went? Hopefully Tanna has given them a heads up and know what they’re in for, although considering that these elves are wearing their finest silks, Tony suspects the opposite is true.

Not wanting to dwell on the whys too much, Tony turns away from the dilapidated structure to address the gathering crowd. If they were expecting a nice little keynote speech about his little pet project, well these elves are in for a letdown. 

“Judging by how all the decor I’ve seen so far is in its natural metal polish, stone and wood grain furnishing state… I don’t suppose any of you know where I can get some paint or plaster?”

Their answers were slow in coming but after a few verbal murmurs and a couple of head shakes in negation, Tony continues with a wry smile, “Didn’t think so. After looking closely at the flagstone walls in the quad and the mega ton granite ones at the arena, I hadn’t seen any traces of cement or mortar used to bind them together yet they stack and interlock seamlessly. The last time I’d seen something like that was in Machu Picchu, Peru. Remind me to give your masons the third degree later. Right now we got shit to muck.”

Not one single elf budge from their spot. Tony held his smile a little longer though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. First they look at the Omega standing with his arms akimbo with a weird smile plastered on his beardless lips, then at each other while a pair of red-haired twins gave Tanna the stink eye. One of them, the more muscular one of the lanky duo who look like he’s going through the first stage of elf puberty with acne and all, spoke up.

“I beg your pardon, your Highness?”

Tony dons on a fake smile and gave the relatively young elf a condescending nod to continue after seeing the equally as fake deference he received from the other.

“With all due respect, most of us assembled here are pages, squires, and apprentices to the nobles of Alfheim. We are unaccustomed to provide muckraking services as your Majesty so requires. If I may be so bold, sir, as to recommend those from the scullery or the stable hands, perhaps?”

Ha! As if Tony hadn’t notice all the idleness that has most of the dozen elves here milling about the quad, twittering like high schoolers on a summer break. Though he may not have gone to high school, Tony had seen most of John Hughes’ movies thank you very much. He has a pretty good idea what this age group is putting their unproductive time into. Fans of his or not, Tanna was right to volunteer these elves. This primeval clique needs a lesson à la Steve Rogers’ style.

After giving the cop out the legitimacy it deserves, Tony folds his arms across his chest and states in all fairness, “Sure, no problem as long as you take over their duties while they attend to my tasks. It’ll only be a few days, give or take what I have in mind. Then you can go back to whatever it is you were doing.”

He made sure to give each elf a measure chance to take up his offer before he moves on with his stare down. It was no surprise when the twins gave Tony a shallow bow along with their murmur assurance that they’ll send their replacements and left in haste. Hopefully within the hour, otherwise Tony would have to concoct some fitting punishment to establish his authority.

As Tanna began passing out the shovels and grabber-like sweepers to the remaining ten, Tony moves to stand beside her and whispers for her ears only, “What the heck is their problem?”

At least she acknowledges his inquiry with a side glance before refusing to dignify him with a response until all the elves reluctantly shuffle inside the forge out of earshot.

“Lars and Rhys, they squire for the mayor and steward of Ports Mouth respectively. Their masters, like many of the other nobles who are unmated Alphas, has been relaying messages via squires and pages to the King since your arrival. Unfortunately, this cause an unanticipated side effect. In having direct access to King Frey, a few young elves like the twins have inflated their own importance. Thus, I applause your method to weed out the troublemakers, your Highness.”

He gasps in hearing her praise then sniffles before wiping the nonexistent tears from his eyes. After giving his performance a double take, she pretends not to notice. Unrepentant in his antics, a grinning Tony takes one of the grabber-whatsit and heads toward the hovel while inquiring just because he can, “Um, we’re probably not thinking of the same place, but I’m going to ask anyways. Where is Portsmouth exactly?”

With a shovel in hand as she kept pace alongside him, Tanna answers without missing a beat, “You should know, your Highness. You were there but two week ago; the Red Cockerel tavern is situated at the edge of Ports Mouth.”

Then with a solemn nod, Tony muse with a straight face, “Ah, the Red Cock strikes again.”

And pretends not to hear the unladylike snort next to him before declaring out of the blue, “You want to know what I think? Of course you do. I think you have no trouble identifying the troublemakers at all. _‘Never underestimate a woman no matter what distinction’_ my old man used to say. It’s a first for me, but I do agree with him on this one. Anyhow, I am happy to exert my Princely authority to spank any donkey’s butt anytime and anywhere. So feel free to direct them to me.”

Wonder of all wonders, Tanna actually roll her eyes at him before remarking with a shake of her head in disapproval, “I think I need not a translation to understand your crude meaning, my Lord.”

* * *

At first, it was a strange sight to see them all dressed in their finery approaching the clumps of dung heap as if it’ll attack or something. The novelty soon wore off due to Tanna’s diligent task mastery while they file in and out of the forge to pour bucketful of poop into a large cart. Tony has half a mind to hand her a whip to complete the mental picture he had. 

By the time the two replacements arrive, the team had cleared a wide path from the fold out barn doors to the center fire pit. Tony was inspecting said revealed barn door when he notice the newcomers sticking out like a sore thumb standing at his peripheral. The Hansel and Gretel runner-ups seem to be overstimulated with their imitation of a deer in the headlight. As if it were possible their faces turn even paler when Tony turns and addresses them directly. For once, his neck isn’t locked permanently in the tilt up position when talking in general.

“Welcome to the party.”

Upon seeing their muted awe, Tony flashes them his fan favorite smirk for the public and continues in a fast pace delivery, “Since we’re burning daylight as we speak and there are lots to do still, here’s the shorthand version: you two are going to help me fix this place so that I can use it. So who are you, where were you, and what skills do you have? Come on, don’t be shy.”

They must be siblings since they both share an identical look of astonishment before the boy spoke up, his voice breaking at odd intervals, “My name is Kip, your Highness. And I hail from Hjaalberg…”

After seeing the shake of Tony’s head followed by the circling motion of his hands, the boy catches on and quickly adds, “er… from the Woods-smith’s lodge when Master Lars bid me to attend you…And this changeling here is my sister, Pip, an apprentice with the Baker, sir.”

If baleful looks could maim, young Pip would have skewer her brother for that remark. Tony likes them already. He signals for Tanna to join them, “Meet Kip and Pip. Pip and Kip meet Tanna. Hmm…Kip and Pip. Pep and Tanna… That just won’t do. See you’re the odd one out here. You’ll have to change your name to Tip or Tap in order to fit in.”

“I will do no such thing,” Tanna scoffs under her breath.

Feigning a long suffering sigh, he ignores her comment in favor of rallying his new minions.

“Fortunately for you two, the things I have planned require your specific skill sets. So consider yourself recruited.”

Tony pulls out a list he scribbled earlier. On a whim he had decided to try his hand in doing the translations himself wherein Tanna double check his match stick writing. Luckily the Futhark runes he learned from his training days were only a slight variation of the current Asgardian script. With her insistence, next to his barely legible scratches was the Elvish equivalent. Interestingly, the scripts look more like Sanskrit than a mockup of Tolkien’s own. He hands the list over to the siblings and noticed both of them squinting at the contents. Either they’re in need of corrective lens or they’re the byproduct of a system who does not promote the ‘no children left behind’ policy. Shaking his head, Tony turns back to the crew who’s literally mucking around.

“You there! Yeah, with the side braid. Come here, please.”

Tony pointedly ignores the questionable dark smear on the elf’s cheek. Instead, he takes the list back and he hands the list over to the newcomer, “Okay boys and girl, these are the items I need you to get for me from the kitchen and the wood shop. You, the tall one, will help carry whatever items that are retrieved and make sure Pip and Kip complete the task without any hassle. Well? Go on.”

He shoos them away and turns back to his task. After a minute and Tanna hasn’t budge from her spot, he looks at her from over his shoulder and ask with an expression of all innocence, “What?”

All he heard was another unladylike snort before she switch back to drill sergeant mode. He wisely stayed out of her way after that.

* * *

“One great thing about having an art history major for an uncle is that you learn how to make things like paint from scratch. Although at the time, I was about as interested in making paint as I was watching it dry. Lucky for me, my memory retention is so high I remember shit like this even if I don’t want to. So with a little bit of cornstarch, a little bit of water, a few drops of food coloring…and voila! You have _Impasto!_ ”

Of course Tony wasn’t doing the mixing, not when young Pip was doing the task with so much enthusiasm. He would be too compares to what the older elves are doing.

“Your Highness, do we _‘paint’_ with it now?”

Tony checks her brother’s progress on the plaster before answering, “Not yet, this is just the base. I’ll need the plaster to change the texture first. You can dump it in now, Kip.”

With little supervision, the siblings completed his little chalk mixture and soon were painting within the outline Tony drew on the side of the barn door facing inwards. He would have chosen another location but the lack of natural sunlight inside the building and the cramp space left little to be desired for what he plan for its use.

Little by little the forge was cleaning up nicely. Despite the awkward beginning, Elvish work ethics rocks! No matter how dirty the job, when they set out to complete something, they’re pretty thorough. The forge still looks like a squalid hovel but at least a clean one that smells like fresh wildflowers. A few of his fangirl-elves took the liberty of spreading fresh rushes sprinkled with flower water on the dirt stone floor. 

The sun had already set when Tony, equally covered in muck and chalk paint, dismiss the group with a job well done and invites them all (which included Kip and Pip as well) to dine with him in the hall after they clean up of course. This was met with boisterous approval before they dispersed. Afterwards, he gave clear instructions to Tanna to reserve a specific table and have Cook prepare items six, seven, nine, twelve and fifteen on the menu. Tony may not know how to cook, but he certainly knows what ingredients are in it and what it is supposed to taste like. Hopefully Cook would not disappoint.

That night, to the great amusement of King Frey, Queen Frigga and Ambassador Larien, Prince Anthony of Midgard expresses his heartfelt apologies in not able to dine with them for he had promise a feast to honor the group of young elves who had help him in his time of need. Upon his proper dismissal by the King, Tony’s reception as the host of their reserved table rang out with applause and no small amount of teasing. Since atypical of the usual dining experience on Alfheim, all of his distinguish guests were sitting at a still empty table. 

Knowing that he had a bigger audience than just the immediate group with him, Tony dials the Stark’s brand of showmanship up several notches and allow his voice to carry through to entertainment level.

“Welcome! I would like to thank all you muckrakers who has join me this lovely evening.”

This was met with a burst of laughter from his table, while frowns and murmured confusion spread amongst the others. If there was a twin set of eyes staring holes at him from some obscure table, Tony ignores it. Regardless he carries on.

“I would like to take this moment to praise your dedication and hard work. Without your generosity and support, I would still be knee deep in horse shit.”

Another burst of laughter and the susurrus grew more restless.

“Instead, I look forward to working with you again in hopes that we may continue what we started today. As an expression of my humble thanks, I offer you a taste of Midgard!”

With that as their signal, the kitchen staff brought out plate after plate of foreign dishes. Immediately, the other elves rose from their seat. All wanted to see and only a few were green with envy. To Ambassador Larien however, he has no qualms in crashing a party without a proper invite.

“Is that pizza and cookies I see? Oh, well…would your Majesty please excuse me?”

He took King Frey’s eruption of laughter as permission and was out of his chair and down the dais before it even stop.


	14. The Good, the Bad, and the Smelly, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/27/16

“You didn’t have to come all this way, Ambassador. I made sure some complimentary sample platters were sent to the royal table,” says Tony as he points with the tilt of his chin and smiles upon seeing the delight on both the royal siblings’ faces, “See?”

The Ambassador didn’t bother to confirm this even as he parked his keester down on the bench opposite him. The old elf had already taken a slice of combo pizza and began chewing with an expression of such bliss. How Larien manage all that gooeyness without messing up his white Fu Manchu Tony would like to know. He’s been thinking about growing a mustache or even a goatee himself just to buck the trend of clean shaven Omegas.

The Ambassador swallows audibly before gesturing with his handful of half-eaten pizza down the table and spoke with mock horror, “And miss out on all the fun?”

He then takes another bite, chews and moans with exaggerated enjoyment before continuing, “My compliments to Cook in replicating such fares. The crust is a tad too crispy for my taste but the toppings are a delightful attempt considering what is available on Alfheim. I believe tis a successful merger of the two realms. If only politics be as easy as culinary arts.”

“You should have been at the initial taste test,” Tony mock shudders and gestures with his hand, “I was _this_ close to request King Frey in allowing me to make an inter-realm order from Lombardi’s.”

Larien snorts in return, “King Frey may think it amusing but I doubt Heimdall would appreciate the Bifrost to be reduce to a delivery service.”

Tony caught himself mid-laugh, “Wait, Heimdall is an actual person and not just a codename to activate the Bifrost transporter?”

Finishing off the last couple of bites, the Ambassador simply shrugs before answering, “Aye. I suppose tis a signal in a way. Most need only call for his attention since he is Heimdall, the All-Seeing Gatekeeper of Asgard; the wielder of Hofund— ”

Tony decidedly cuts him off, knowing how long these lengthy titles can get, “Yeah. I was warned all those Norse gods mumbo jumbo business were all myths wasn’t it? That whole spiel is making it sound more legit by the minute.”

“The fact of the matter is, such fictionalization told and retold by mere mortals over a millennia ago about beings they once revered as gods are oftentimes embellished and holds little knowledge beyond exaggeration in one breath while predicting our demise by another. Is it not best, Prince Anthony, to witness for one self? Surely, none of these stories you have read alluded to the current state of affairs: of Thor, the God of Thunder, to wed Anthony Stark of Midgard?”

Larien raises a brow to punctate his argument and let it linger between them. Tony couldn’t agree more, since the beginning he was adamant the source materials were flawed. It didn’t mean he should concede without comment however, “Point, point, and one more point for prosperity. Sheesh, you definitely weren’t kidding about being a Master Word-smith, huh?”

By now, the Ambassador had place a hamburger slider and two slices of meat lover’s pizza on his plate. As much as Tony would like to dive in with equal fervor as the guests at his table are doing, except for Tanna who’s standing sentinel behind him somewhere per usual, he’s already full from the earlier taste test. It didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy watching them (especially Kip and Pip) go to town with some of his favorite foods while having a bit of good ol’ intellectual conversation with the Ambassador. Tony gestures the old elf to have at it before grabbing two nutty gingersnap cookies for himself. 

After polishing his plate off, Larien took a swig of his wine then gave a hardy belch in compliments to the chef before continuing their conversation not without following Tony’s example and snatch up two cookies too.

“Tis not an envious profession I assure you. No matter the species or distinction, although some worse than others, people learn not to trust a Word-smith on principle. They expect our every other word to be filled with traps and allurements. As young Prince Loki can attest, the Asgardians are the worst of the lot since they perceive action to be more honest than words.”

Brawns over brains, oh what a pity. Tony is beginning to dislike Asgard more and more despite not having step foot on his future home yet. At least he would have a natural ally in Loki to look forward to.

“Yet they have no reservation to send you in for negotiations?”

“Ah, your estimation of me is commendable, my Lord, however tis false in your assumption. Make no mistake: in this game of war, tis much like your Midgardian chess, the All-Father knows his rooks from his pawns. I am merely another chess piece on the board. When words fail, the Asgardians takes great pleasure in holding back none of the action.”

In other words: expendable. Tony wonders briefly what value he has on Odin’s chessboard and frankly lost his appetite altogether. He pushed the half eaten cookie away and signals for Tanna to pour him his watered down wine combo instead.

“If you were trying to recruit me as a student, your sales pitch needs a bit of work.”

“My apologies, your Highness. Tis not my intention to be a party pooper, so to speak. In fact, I was looking forward to spending the last night of my vacation with a charming Omega such as your lovely self. It has been many years since my late wife exacted a vow from me to never remarry. Otherwise, I am tempted to challenge Prince Thor with what you Midgardian’s would say the _droit du seigneur_.”

Tony did a spit take then, promptly wiping his mouth with his sleeves as he coughed up the rest up. Thankfully, it wasn’t a huge mess like last night. The young elf sitting next to Tony shook his head and offers him a cloth napkin in sympathy. It took a few dabs to get the rest of the liquid off his person before Tony finally lifts his head and glares at the Ambassador with amuse annoyance. 

“I think you meant _droit de défier_ since the former would get you a big fat _‘ew’_ whereas the latter would be _‘aw, you would do that for me.’_ Besides, you’re a bit old for me, don’t you think? Creepy much?”

“I would not demur at both options,” says Larien with a devilish glint in his eyes before remarking offhandedly, “Indeed, Prince Thor would be a bit old for you, I am thrice his age.”

After quickly taking a gulp before the old elf says something else inappropriate, Tony decides to give the Word-smith a taste of his own medicine, “You know, you’re the second old fart to come on to me, somewhat. Do I look like jailbait to you?”

Choking just a bit, Larien splutters cookie fragments at his word choice and Tony couldn’t widen his grin far enough. The old elf dusts off his Fu Manchu before admonishing him with a shake of his head, “Age is relative between species, what matters is the physical maturation are compatible. You would attract any Alpha regardless of age who would enjoy a mate with a bit more wit. Tis common in Alfheim, Asgardians are a different lot altogether.”

Tony shrugs, “I don’t know, if Thor wasn’t such a cock block, I think Fandral would have jumped me the first chance he gets.”

“Fandral would lie with any who would spread their legs,” scoffs the Ambassador before taking on a much more serious tone than Tony has ever heard the other addressed him with, “I would advise you not to encourage Fandral. His conquest once complete, the scoundrel flees the trap of a marriage bower most hastily.”

“Woah there. You know I wasn’t serious in considering him as an option, right?”

Instead of reverting back to their earlier banter, Larien continues to warn him, “Serious attachment or not, I caution you to lend your good will needlessly. In these realms, any sign of affection from an unmated Omega is consider an invitation for _carte blanche_.”

Okay. Oddly enough, Tony is beginning to feel like he’s in another fairytale where his hairy god elf is warning him of some evil portends of doom. He tries laughing it off, but it comes out awkward. So he tries a different tactic, “Seriously, I am envious of you being able to use French, Latin and even modern slangs so easily.”

“Tis no more easier than yourself are capable of understanding me,” quips the old elf in return.

There. That did seem to do the trick. So he continues in this vein, “True. I guess after two weeks of watching my words almost all the time and having to explain myself more than once—”

Tony takes a moment to look over his shoulder pointedly at Tanna, who he knows for damn sure has been eavesdropping, before completing his observation, “I find it refreshing that’s all. So back to _carte blanche_ , well?”

The glint of humor was back in those all too knowing eyes, Larien merely shrugs one shoulder in return, “Tis the best description I can think of at the moment. I suppose, one can say is similar to _droit de défier_ , except the challenger may commit the act of bride stealing and not suffer any legal repercussions for it.”

Huh. Bride stealing is a thing. For that brief moment, everything clicked. He’s gone back in time and entered a sci-fi fantasy Omega novel.

Tony hopes his effort to look less dumbstruck was not in vain, “So I’m confined here until Thor and I do the deed? Glad to know.”

Again, probably seeing more than he ought to comment, Tony is grateful that Larien chose not to, “Crudely put, but aye.”

“Duly noted,” and Tony winks with a kitschy click of his tongue for good measure, “And no flirting, gotcha.”

Shaking his head at Tony’s contradicting behavior, the old elf declares in delight, “Tis affection you must withheld, not flirtation, sir. You may practice with me for I am quite harmless.”

With a roll of his eyes, Tony mocks with a deadpan, “I’ll believe that when you lose your tongue and can’t communicate.”

As Tony soon finds out, Larien was not above committing theatrics with his words. The old elf place a hand over his heart as if wounded before vacating his seat altogether to brandish a nice little attention getting bow, “I will gladly give up my livelihood for a smidgeon of your affections. However since I am no match for Prince Thor, I shall accept any platonic platitudes you may have for me, my Lord.”

Awkward silence ensues.

Oh, crap.

Knowing that all eyes at his table (and perhaps the entire dining hall maybe) were on them, Tony blinks a few times to think up something witty to say. In all honesty, everything came up blank until a snort of laughter bubbles up and before he knows it, a full onset chortle takes over him. Whether it was the politically correct thing to do, the hall suddenly fills with laughter as everyone follows suit.

One look at the Ambassador’s overacted affront has Tony feeling all kinds of relief. By the time the laughter dies down and the usual chattering noise resumes, Larien sits back down and flashes a broad smile for Tony’s benefit.

“Well met, my Lord.”

* * *

Hours later, Tony couldn’t imagine a more entertaining night since he landed on Alfheim. After the Ambassador’s little outburst, the rest of the elves at his table took jibes at Larien and somehow turn to discussions on culture, language, food, and fashion of all things. Tony loved it. It gave him hope to be able to explore other topics once he’s more familiar with Alfheim and the other realms.

By the time both Royal siblings had left the dining hall, Tony felt a strange sense of loss for the night to come to a close. He said goodnight to the few remaining elves on his table and caught sight of Larien approaching from his peripheral, probably returning to say goodbye. Tony pivots around and meet the old elf half way.

“Do you really have to leave so soon? We barely touched on all the subjects I wanted to talk about.”

“You flatter me, my Lord,” began Larien with such sincerity that soon turn false, “I thought you would be delighted to be rid of me especially after you gave me the cut direct in front of all my kinfolks.”

It wasn’t wholly unexpected, by now Tony was use to the old elf’s quirks.

“I’m serious. What’s the rush anyways?”

“Rejoice, my Lord,” the Ambassador nodded in acquiescence and obliges Tony in cutting the bullshit, “I am to depart on your behalf amongst other duties. It would seem Queen Frigga has taken the task upon herself to champion your cause. She has spoken with the All-Father directly and enlisted King Frey in sponsoring your old pack mates to attend the ceremony. Her plea was most impressive and has succeeded in granting you the choice of three pack mates. Choose wisely, your Highness, in light of what you now know.”

Speechless, Tony could scarcely form words for the whole of a minute. His mouth gapes open and probably made a good imitation of a fish out of water before he finds himself instead of being excited, exasperation was the forefront of all his emotions, “Y— y— you waited until _now_ to tell me? I could have been packing to go back with you.”

Larien was already shaking his head in negation before Tony could further his complaint. His demeanor now reflects more of the title of wise Ambassador than the bantering mentor he’s been so familiar with.

“You are mistaken, my Lord. The stipulation from the Proclamation still stands. You are to remain here. As for the lateness of the hour, that is out of my control. The Queen, you see, had only receive the permission herself via messenger a moment ago. She intercepted me just now and gave me leave to tell you. Tis not our intention to delay your gratification.”

“Oh.” And now Tony feels like an entitled ass. Dipping his head to hide his embarrassment, Tony shuffles his feet before he scrounges up what’s left of his good manners and apologize, “I’m sorry. I _am_ happy. More than I can express. I miss all of them and the thought… that I could go back…” 

Thankfully, the silence that stretch between them isn’t as awkward as earlier in the evening. After a moment, Tony finds his courage again, “Can you give my Uncle Steve a message?”

“It will be my pleasure, your Highness.”

“First thing, tell him that I trust his judgment, but he has to be one of them and, um—” Tony pauses briefly until all the previous gloom left him for good and his cheeky self finally exerts its ugly head, “that way he can be blame for favoring one pack mate over the other. Second thing is, um, can he bring me a copy of a dictionary and a cookbook to Alfheim? Would it go against some sort of _‘Prime Directive’_ or something? Or would it be consider smuggling cultural goods through custom?”

“Knowledge has always been welcome on Alfheim.”

Well then, Tony didn’t just try his luck, he shot for the moon.

“In that case, would my Iron Man suit qualify as a learning tool? There’s an artificial intelligence called J.A.R.V.I.S. built in.”

The twinkle was back in Larien’s eyes as he shook his head in negation, “ _Now_ you are pushing it, my Lord. You will come to learn in time. Until then, such exchanges must be embrace gradually.”

“I guess,” Tony was not the least repentant and flashes a toothy smile instead, “Wait, will you be escorting them back with you?”

“Aye, in a few days if all goes accordingly.”

In most things, one can say Tony catches on pretty quick. However, one can’t blame the genius when the truth of the matter finally sinks in: Christmas was definitely coming early on Alfheim.

“Awesome!”

* * *

Early next morning, Tony waits anxiously for what he now brand (to Tanna’s dismay) his _‘dirty dozen’_ to assemble. Everything was all set. The makeshift chalkboard on the inside of the barn door has completely dried and is ready for use. Tanna has positioned some benches before it for seating arrangements and all his drawings and blueprints were accounted for the presentation.

It felt like forever before everyone began to trickle in. Well everyone that Tony expected except for Pip and Kip. Their predecessors strode into his territory chatting with a few of the elves and sat down as if they have all rights to be there. He knows plenty of people like them who don’t pull their weight but expects to reap the benefits afterward.

Nonchalantly folding his hands behind his back, Tony signals with a curl of his index finger for Tanna to come over. When she didn’t show up, he did it again. Still nothing. Either she didn’t see his gesture or she doesn’t understand his meaning. Losing his impatience entirely, he foregoes all subtlety, does a complete turnabout, and stalks right up to her. His expression must have been something fierce since Tanna actually takes a few steps back in alarm. What Tony wants, Tony gets and right now he has no time for riffraff he told himself.

Not caring if he sounded like a brat, Tony whispers in a rush, “I don’t remember inviting them to the party. What gives?”

Tanna takes a moment to scan the crowd and realization dawns on her face before she ventures a guess, “They must have spoken to one of your dirty dozen and are…curious, perhaps?”

Tony is quick to mutter in return, “If they are—” and raised two hands up for air quotes, “just curious,” before crossing his arms over his chest and grouses, “then it means I’m short two helpers.”

He could tell that Tanna was having an obvious crisis since she’s doing that wobbly lip thing that looks like a smile but is trying to be serious. So he purposely intensifies his glare and she quickly picks, unfortunately it was tinge with humor, “What would you have me do, my Lord?”

“Tell them to piss off.”

Tanna blinks twice then deadpans, “I beg your pardon?”

“You know, get their hoity-toity arses off my bench and bring back the teacup elves.”

He receives two more blinks before his assistant (and yes, he’s referring Tanna to that from now on) sniffs and deals with his demand in her oh so efficient way, “As you wish, sir.”

True to her word, while Tony walks back to address his dirty dozen minus two, Tanna flags down a passing servant to whisper some instructions before she discretely signals the twins to have a private word with them. The pair seem reluctant to go, but thankfully doesn’t raise a stink as they slip away. The trio walks back towards the open arch leading down to the stables but still within sight. Making a point to ignore the brewing hostility on their pimpled faces, Tont begins by welcoming the group and waste no time to elaborate on the type of projects he had in mind.

By the time Pip and Kip joins the group Tony has either impress the whole lot of them or was speaking in a foreign tongue. There was nothing but blank stares. Obviously this AllSpeak application needs an update. His eyes automatically went in search of his handy translator slash assistant and discovers not only has the twin not left, they had lingered and listen in on his little keynote. And judging by the asshole grins on their faces, gladly pissing on his parade. While standing a bit way off from the nasty duo, Tanna shrugs in apology.

Mentally flipping the birdie to the peanut gallery, Tony steels his spine and flashes the smug grin he reserves for the public and resolves to treat this small group like he’s hosting the annual Stark Expo. It’s bedazzle time.

Taking one of his more simplistic but fun designs in hand, Tony rolls it out with a flourish and tacks the blueprint onto the barn door.

“I call it a skateboard.”

Nothing like a pair of wheels to get the crowd up and oohing.


	15. Journey into Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/27/16

As expected, there were more than a few puzzled looks as the group cluster around the blueprint drawing, but hecklers it would seem are universal no matter what realm Tony’s in.

“Surely, you jest? Tis nothing but a wood plank with wheels.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know where that comment came from. It was one thing to stay and not pay for the show, it was quite another to undermine the event altogether. Tony’s new resolve from two days ago threw no objections when he chose not to mince words either, “Would those who’s allergic to creativity please leave? I don’t want you to strain anything important.”

One thing Tony has learned and enjoyed about Alfheim is that the elves he’d encountered so far gets with the program fast. There were a few giggles (politely of course) when as a whole the group turn their gaze at the duo Tony was clearly referring to. Instead of driving the twin away though, they visibly bristles at the gibe and bulldoze their way right through the dirty dozen to Tony’s drawing, gesture at it to return tit for tat.

“If you would pardon Rhys and my own lack of imagination, your _Highness._ Such a design would undoubtedly be of little use; tis too small to load and not wide nor deep enough to cart with. What could one possible use such a simple apparatus for?”

Yeah, no disrespect there. As much as Tony relish the thought of having Tanna send for armed guards to boot them offstage, he was more curious to see what the groups’ reaction to their comments were. The ones that were nodding in agreement he has no use for them. Rather, to Tony’s delight, it was the same handful of elves that he’d spoken to last night that has his attention.

Needless to say, in spite of the twins’ intention they just unwittingly help Tony out. Not that he would be thanking them, more like knocking them down a peg or three for challenging him outright.

With an air of a practice showman, Tony slow claps before enunciating dryly, “Thank you for that wonderfully simplistic assessment. Now, if you would look at the drawings beneath the ‘wood plank’ if you please? Can any elf tell me what they see?”

That taunt manage to get the larger twin to puff up in embarrassment, so the scrawnier version tags in to the verbal match, “Nothing but a pair of axles attached to two small wheels.”

As far as comebacks go, that was weak. Tony did roll his eyes then, “Thank you, Mister Obvious. Anyone else?”

He was greeted by utter silence. That was a miscalculation on his part. Tony didn't mean to scare them off with his own remarks. Thankfully the session isn’t dead in the waters when a discordant voice pipes up from young Kip no less, albeit in the form of a question, “it can pivot, sir?”

Excited by the prospect of actually getting somewhere with this group, Tony broke out into a wide smile and exclaims, “Yes! That’s five points for Gryffindor.”

Promptly ignoring the elves immediate confusion over that non sequitur, Tony looks over his shoulder to Tanna (who has taken her usual position behind him) and calls out offhandedly, “Keep score won’t you? Thanks.”

Then brought his attention back to the young elf, “Now Kip, what cause you to make that observation if you don’t mind sharing with the rest of the class?”

The boy seem flustered by all the attention he was getting and hesitantly stumbles along while pointing at the poster for reference, “The drawing… erm, this small joint here… this locks the front axle to that piece there… beneath the plank?”

Kip pause and eyes Tony nervously as if he’s waiting for confirmation. So he nods for the boy to continue. With the boost of confidence, the young elf even gestures what the axle would do, “depending on how tight the joint is attach, it will turn left or right, my Lord.”

“Very good, Kip! That’s another five points,” Tony enthuses and beams at the boy even as Pip gave her brother a proud smile for receiving such praise. Not wanting to chance any derogatory comments to the boy’s small victory, Tony hastily prod things along.

“If you look here, this front part of the skateboard is called the nose and this back portion is called the tail. It’s the nose section that the truck, this piece here, allows the axle to move on the two bushings there and that pivot point. The key to how wide an angle you want the turn depends on how much you tighten the kingpin nut here. So, any elf wants to make an educated guess as to the skateboard’s use?”

Whether the group is bolster by the success of a small boy or just humoring the Midgardian Prince, one of the elves he’d spoken to last night finally joins in on the discussion. Tony recognizes him immediately as the meticulous elf with the side braid and a wide knowledge of textiles.

“Tis a wild guess, your Highness,” he said before looking at his friend with the darker coloring for confirmation. Tony remembers him as well. These two were never far from each other. The dark one has a penchant for sweets and savory foods like Tony and was also in trades. After that brief exchange between what he dubbed as Ebony and Ivory, the fairer of the two continues, “Is it some type of propelled transport?”

With much relief, Tony pumps his hand in the air and points at the pair with excitement, “Yes! Ten points for Hufflepuff.”

“Ah, I see!” 

With a sigh, Tony is on his way to forming an aversion to the twins’ voices as he differentiate between the two.

That was Lars, the leader of the two who likes to start the sentence, “If one were to tie a rope around the front axle, one can pull a child—” 

“Or a small animal. Aye. We stand corrected, my Lord. Tis not useless at all,” And that was Rhys, the smaller, scrawnier brother equally pock-faced who follows.

Wonders never cease. It has been a long time since one of Tony’s inventions (even though this was not his own) was laughed at. From experience though, hecklers don’t stop heckling until their balls are handed to them. And Tony is very tempted to do literally that. It took a recital of pi to the tenth decimal place for him to cool his temper somewhat.

Though he needn’t bother. A cool and detach voice rose crisp and clear from beyond the crowd to rejoinder, “Tis a self-propelled apparatus. Judging by the purposeful curved design of the wood plank and the hints given, one needs only to stand on this skateboard to manipulate its movements. Obviously, the maneuverability and speed depends on the skill of the rider.”

With all attention diverted from Tony’s little project, his dirty dozen began whispering excitedly amongst themselves as they part like the Red Sea for the newcomer. 

Tony has never seen her before. She was shorter than most elves, though long and lean, much darker too, with midnight hair tied in a high ponytail and muted blue skin that makes her jade eyes seems brighter against those classical cheekbones and thin press lips. She was dressed in the same regalia as the castle guards, yet her ensemble resembles more of Lady Sif’s chest plate and pauldron combo. Beyond that, the changes was vastly different. Her light armor consists more of leather than metal, although the silver looks warn and the shade of forest green pants and muslin tunic was darker than the ones he’d seen the other guards wore. Even the short rapier-like scimitar strapped to her right hip pose a difference in her rank.

Her steps towards Tony were unhurried and has a distinct prowl to it. He might have made a mental gulp as she nears. At a respectful distance of a yard, she stops then place a vambrace covered arm over her chest and bows swiftly.

“Greetings Prince Anthony Stark of Midgard. I am Captain T’Pol of the Northern Rangers. My King has received word from Mortan the foreman of the Royal Forge that your commission is complete and is ready for inspection. His Majesty has granted his permission to depart with a royal escort upon your order. My pack mates and I are at your disposal.”

Yes! Tony has been anxiously waiting to hear from Mortan ever since the two weeks deadline had come and gone. The downside is, Thor and his pack had kept him so busy that he has yet to experiment on the materials the old cat elf gave him. So how can he face his mentor without doing his homework first?

Reluctant to wait yet apprehensive to go, he was tongue-tied to make a decision. As far as distraction goes, the odd silence that ensue has his eyes scanning the crowd before he notice with some alarm, his group was giving the Ranger a very wide berth. Her stance remain relaxed however, though her right hand rests on the pommel of her sword as she kept her gaze steady on Tony, awaiting his orders.

What was it about this particular elf? She didn’t give him the same bad vibes as Lars and Rhys did, yet the whole group especially the children seem to be wary. Or was it racial prejudice? Tony couldn’t fathom it when cat elves is an actual thing. 

“My Lord, perhaps we should wait until Prince Thor’s return? He may wish to join you on your sojourn.”

That it was Tanna of all the elves to raise an objection cause Tony to go from feeling annoyed to indignant. Even Ebony and Ivory was nodding in agreement with her advice to him. And he was equally flummox when the twins spoke up in actual defense, albeit in a condescending way.

“Come now, Tanna. You should not encourage the young Prince to follow your example and rarely leave the castle. I am sure the Ranger will do an adequate job. Rhys and I have traveled the roads to Ports Mouth thousands of times, tis safe.”

Though the Ranger had been stone face at that personal jab, she actually raise a brow at the word ‘safe’ before going back to her stone face impression. Tony didn’t want to admit it at first but his suspicions became more concrete the more he observed the crowds enjoyment of the twins’ remark.

Yup, definitely a steaming pile of racial crap.

Deciding to not even poke that with a ten foot pole, Tony went with his gut and projects his voice firmly, “Give me a moment to change and grab a few things, Captain. I will meet you at the stables within an hour.”

* * *

Despite being calm and collected as she helps him carry all the rolls of drawing on their quiet walk back to Tony’s quarters, Tanna is anything but after she place them down on the table and quite vocally make another attempt to dissuade him.

“Prince Anthony, I beg you to reconsider. Captain T’Pol and her pack mates are hired mercenaries. Their loyalty has yet to be tested.”

Oh ho. Tony knows when an elephant is being ignored in the room. That was not even a valid argument in his book.

“I understand your concerns, Tanna. But look at it this way, King Frey himself recommended them. Wouldn’t he be the best judge of their loyalty?”

Instead of capitulating, Tanna seems more agitated as she began pacing the floors and wringing her fingers. Eventually she mutters something under her breath, “Tis what I am afraid of.”

Tony was definitely missing something here. He doesn’t have time for this.

“Excuse me?”

Inhaling a sharp gasp, Tanna nearly stumbles on her feet when she realizes what she had said. She turns sharply to face Tony, fear clearly in her eyes and prostrates on the floor. 

Her voice was ripe with tension as she begs hastily, “Forgive me, your Highness. I had not meant to question the King.”

Tony is having none of that as he crouch down awkwardly to quickly console her, “Hey now. Don’t even go there. No kneeling, ever! You hear me?”

She seem hesitant to move still, so Tony sat down instead and try coaxing some more, “Penny for your thoughts?”

This time Tanna raises her upper body to give him a puzzle look.

With a smile, Tony falls back into their usual exchange, “It means that I can’t read your thoughts, so do you mind sharing them? I promise I won’t judge.”

“Oh,” whisper Tanna before taking a deep breath and began, albeit haltingly at first, “I would have to start… at the beginning… I think. ’Twas over 5000 years ago when King Borr fought the Dokkalfar in Svartalheim and won. However, ’twas a hollow victory for the dark elves themselves were the ones to annihilate their own kinfolks to the point of near extinction. The ones who managed to escape are few and far in-between. They scattered across the eight realms, living in the cover of darkness. Though they were granted asylum by King Borr soon after the war, many were persecuted still for inane reasons. They adapted to the other realms eventually. Most kept to themselves, living in the most inhospitable and isolated of places, wherein some became hired mercenaries known for their ruthlessness… Tis this reason I fear for you, my Lord. King Frey may be using this opportunity to test their loyalty. I cannot vouch for your safety.”

Wow. She said quite a mouthful. It was a lot to take in considering all the social commentary he had to put aside. There was so many things wrong with that story.

First things first, Tony’s got a plan.

“It’ll be fine. I’m a big boy and can handle myself,” he smirks.

“But—”

“However,” Tony cuts in before she worried herself to death, “To be on the safe side, I’m going to gear up while you go fetch your own merry band of escorts, ‘kay? Then we’ll be there and back before lunchtime.”

That should have alleviated the frown on Tanna’s face but it seem to deepen it instead. Thankfully he didn’t have to cajole it out of her this time.

“Very well, but you are mistaken, my Lord. Both your journey with Prince Thor were on Asgardian creatures that were bred for speedy travel. Only the royal family members are known to handle such creatures. The journey on steeds from Alfheim will not be as swift. It will take most of the day to complete the task.”

“Huh.”

Well that explains it. Not. Talk about special privileges. Thor made it seem so safe and effortless to travel anywhere. It was utter bullshit.

“Shall I send word to the Captain to postpone our outing?”

Damn. She looks hopeful, yet Tony has made up his mind. 

“Nah. As Sun-Tzu once said, _‘know thy enemy, know thyself.’_ I rather give people the benefit of the doubt but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a plan B just in case the shit hits the fan.”

And now she looks disturbed.

“The image you painted tis rather disgusting, sir.”

“Yeah, so is betrayal.”


	16. WTF, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/27/16

It was weird being back in uniform.

The smell and feel of the fabrics and Kevlar felt foreign, itchy and stiff even. At least the image staring right back at him from the vanity looks somewhat familiar. Though his hair is a half-inch longer and his complexion seems to have improved. Overall, he looks hale and hearty. 

Alfheim, a magical place that does wonders for one’s health. Not bad for a vacation spot tagline. Maybe Tony should make a deal with King Frey on monopolizing the tourism business from Earth once the news about aliens got out that is. Stark Industries could branch out as Stark Inter-Galactic.

Now there’s a thought once he can solve the space travel dilemma. It would only be a matter of when.

With all plans aside though, funny how much he’s adapted to Alfheim in a little over two weeks. In the beginning, the full immersion felt like he’s cosplaying a character from some RPG. The sight, scent and feel was all too surreal. It was overwhelming at first, but nothing Tony hadn’t psyched himself into.

The elves as a whole, has grown on him with their work ethics and wry sense of humor. The majority of them he’s met and spoken to, Tony liked. It would be a shame to think that his stay here would only be temporary. After marrying Thor, his new home would be in Asgard. A place he’s already forming a strong dislike due to the small sample of the attitude and behavior exhibited by Thor and his pack mates. It didn’t bode well for his future. The only silver lining is the hope that he may be wrong since Frigga and Loki call it their home too.

With a wistful sigh, Tony shook his head of such somber thoughts. He’s a futurist after all.

While in the process of triple checking all his gear and hidden items, a knock came at the door. It was time to go. Whether it was going to be a trap or not, Tony will have to wait and see. He wouldn’t be much value if there weren’t at least one attempt on his life. Kind of hard to miss the large target on his back in being the fiancé of the Crown Prince after all. So it’s just another repeat chapter from the story of his life.

Upon exiting his room, Tony had not expected to find Tanna dress in anything else except her preferred whitish dress robes. It was silly of him of course, but seeing her decked out in tan leather and cream silk makes an interesting sight. She looks even taller with linen pants and thigh high riding boots. Thinner too, with a fitted thick leather cuirass wrapped around her entire torso. And instead of the one-piece vambraces like the one he’s familiar with, hers were made up of large strips of thick leather braided crisscross around her palm, up her forearm and tied just below the elbow. As for her main choice of weapon (aside from whatever was inside her matching satchel): it was too long to be a dagger, too short to be a broad sword and too thin to be a dirk, more like an Italian stiletto. Whatever it was, the craftsmanship was exquisite and beautifully carved with decorations of Elvin script on the guard and ornate scabbard. How Tony ever mistaken her to be a mated elf that was beyond him. Tanna could be a fresh face Legolas barely stepping into adulthood.

After blowing a wolf whistle, Tony couldn’t help but comment, “You clean up nice, Tanna. Going somewhere special?”

The rhetorical question was completely lost to her when she answers him quite literally, “Aye, with you to Onollo.”

Honestly, he should have expected that Tony thought. Score one for Tanna. After gesturing for them to get a move on, he wastes no time to begin round two of teasing, to pass the time of course.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed my chosen attire. I’m surprise you haven’t scold me to dress appropriately by now, before decking me out with everything including the kitchen sink that is.”

“By kitchen sink, do you mean the wash basin? If you have fought with one before, we can certainly ask Cook to borrow it if you like?”

Oh ho! 

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“I have not spoken in jest, sir.”

Tony pause a moment in his steps at her deadpan delivery before he saw that wobbly lip thing she did, definitely her only tell so far. That makes three strikes and he’s out.

“Two zingers in a row, Tanna. You’re getting better at this.”

“I am learning, my Lord,” she replies with amusement tingeing her voice before she continues, “However to answer your earlier question, I believe your S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform is more than adequate, sir. Likewise—”

They both gave an absent nod to a passing servant who curtsied before he waves a hand for Tanna to continue.

“Likewise, you are never without the amulets on your wrists. I am secure in the knowledge that you are skilled in your own rights and possess many hidden talents, my Lord.”

Huh. He was sidetrack momentarily by the amulet comment. Tony suppose the bluish-white glow from the retractable repulsor gauntlet can be called that since it is a repository for energy of sorts. But then her comment about hidden talents did make him wonder.

Tony narrows his eyes and question a bit cautiously, “Been snooping around have you?”

On the contrary, Tanna did not look guilty or offended. In fact, she was all business as usual when she glances at him before stating, “Not when things are put in their proper place. You easily forget, sir. I clean and tidy after you.”

Quite put out by her side jab about his allergy to picking up after himself (something that has Steve, Pepper, and J.A.R.V.I.S. uniting against him frequently), Tony replies in his usual juvenile manner, “I suppose you found my Alpha-size dildo then?”

Given the inappropriateness of the subject matter brought out in the public for anyone passing by to hear, to her credit, Tanna was only a little flustered when she chastise him with no small amount of annoyance, “My Lord, you have no such thing!”

This only encourage him to be more outrageous however, “Oh ho! You haven’t found it yet have you? Why you naughty girl.”

Seeing as how her beet red face was about to explode, Tony quickly stop his own derailment and went back on track with a laugh, “Okay, okay! I’m only joking. Sheesh! So, um… who did you brought to the party?”

Tony pointedly ignores the roll of her eyes as she took several large breaths to probably cool her rising blood pressure. It was only when her color has return to normal that she could speak with a semblance of normalcy, “After I have confirmed the assignment with the King’s steward, I requested and was granted two extra guards. In addition, the good news is that Huilomë, Valto, and two of their personal guards will also join us. They are familiar with escorting trades across the land due to their family business. The bad news is that the twins and two of their personal guards will join us as well. Interestingly, both groups has expressed the need to prove the roads are safe to travel by a foreign dignitary.”

Although Tony understood plainly that there is a safety in numbers, it seem to be a bit of an overkill to add ten extra people when it was only Thor previously. So he said as much, “You know, there is like, twelve of us and however more of Captain T’Pol and her pack mates. That’s a bit excessive for an entourage even for me. Let’s kick the twins off the bench and keep the starter players. By the way, who’s Who-lome and Balto? Their name doesn’t ring any bells, have I met them before?”

With a huff of exasperation, Tanna hasten her words for they were passing the quad and will be at their appointed destination soon, “We cannot even if you wish to. But aye, Huilomë and Valto are part of your dirty dozen. You have conversed with them about textiles last evening? Team Hufflepuff with the ten points?”

“Oh!” It was that last part which jogs Tony’s memory, “You mean Ebony and Ivory?”

Surprised by the description, Tanna absently nods in agreement, “Aye, your pet name does suit them, my Lord. Their size and coloring do complement each other and has cause many of the court ladies to sigh upon seeing them together. They are betroth to one another despite not being of age yet. There is much hope that Valto would be revealed as an Omega.”

It was Tony’s turn to be surprised, “So arrange marriages is common then?”

“Aye, alliance between noblemen and tradesmen are quite the norm to secure the family legacy.”

Despite being politically correct _way_ on the side of democracy, even though his own situation speaks differently, Tony finds this whole vein of topic to be disgustingly fascinating, “Wait, what happens when Valto isn’t an Omega?”

“The agreement between families will be annulled and Valto’s family will return the bride price.”

“Well that sucks.”

“Indeed, sir.”

They were only a threshold away from the stables and Tony could already see some of the group mounted on horses already. As much as he dislikes the fact that he will be soon on one as well, it wasn’t what cause him to delay them both. He really wanted to know the answers to the next series of questions, “What about you Tanna? Do you have someone waiting for you?”

He could see her confusion clearly, “Nay, my Lord?”

“How come?”

Probably having realize that Tony won’t budge until he got his answer, Tanna spoke as tersely as possible without sounding rude, “I have been chosen to study under Astrid the Wise and will be expected to take the vow of chastity after my rite of passage.”

“You shitting me!”

“I beg your pardon?” Tanna would probably sound more affronted if she isn’t so distracted by what is happening on the other side of the wall, “We must go, your Highness. The longer we delay, the more likely nightfall will hit before we return to the castle.”

As much as Tony wants to argue because he _really_ wants to know Tanna’s story now, it will have to wait until they get back. This whole emissary of Earth ordeal is beginning to feel more and more like he’s living out a sci-fi fantasy novel. Heck, the W.S.C. covering up the whole parasitic alien invasion should be called a sci-fi political thriller all on its own.

* * *

It was an hour into their trip and Tony already noticed several things odd about their little group.

First of all, Captain T’Pol had spoken not a single word since they began. Not a peep complaining about the additional elves. Not about Tony’s awkward mounting of his horse. Not when the twins were snickering at Tony for using a mounting block. Not even when the duo had taken the lead and the Captain had fallen back to the tail end of the party.

Secondly, speaking of horses. Of all the mounts in the King’s stable, Captain T’Pol was riding on Ofrid, the warhorse that Thor had tried to prepare for Tony over two weeks ago. Maybe it’s different on Alfheim, but on Earth, most snobby equestrians he’s met were more than possessive when they even talk about their horseflesh. Or maybe he was being paranoid and Ofrid was just another spare horse otherwise the others would have commented by now.

The third thing, which should have been the second thing but Tony got sidetrack, was that the Captain only had another pack mate with her. That particular dark elf is as grungy and feral as he ever saw one and look as uncomfortable on a horse as Tony was. Perhaps even more so, since the other was crouching over his saddle more than sitting. The dirt-covered man-boy was dressed in only a loose black tunic, capri leggings, and no shoes! That pack mate of hers hadn’t spoken a single word either, but communicated by gestures to the Captain only. Come to think of it, what the hell? Tony was a little afraid, okay maybe a lot, of that one. If this was the only protection that Tony had to initially work with, oh thank Maxwell that Tanna had the foresight to over prepare. The trip would have been more tense and eventful, but fuck who was he kidding: no one wants to be alone in a forest with Captain Silent and her freaky minion.

And the fourth thing, which should have been the first thing really, considering how Tony is actually recounting all the weird stuff he’s noticed instead of focusing on the possible trap. It was because of this lingering possibility that Tony is abso-fucking-lutely bored out of his wits.

There was only so many trees, shrubberies and babbling brooks he can stand. After experiencing the rapid blur of Thor’s travel, he very much prefers that now over this repeated scenery especially when the company he’s keeping was worse than Thor. The twins and their annoying voices along with their guards were pacing a bit up ahead, follow by Ebony and Ivory who only had eyes for each other and conversing in hush tones as their own guards flank their side. While Tanna kept pace with him, she was too busy watching her surroundings and looking back every so often as the extra guards she requested trailed behind them.

Not that all this complaining was Tony simply inviting trouble, notice the monologue kept _internal_. He knew better. So the inventor did the only thing he could think of that may or may not have broken one of the stipulations from the Proclamation to pass the time: he put on his much-more-sophisticated-than-it-looks technology ridden sunglasses which he wasn’t suppose to have but smuggled it he did.

And not a moment too soon, when the radar blip red on his H.U.D. interface. Without hesitation, Tony quickly grabs Tanna by the front of her satchel strap and pulls her down with him. The arrow landed somewhere beside him with a thwack and warm blood sprayed across his neck. Tony cringe as he slid down and use his mount to block his body.

It was another moment, before his H.U.D. registered a 360-degree view of two-dozen blips with four Hulk-size ones when all hell broke loose.


	17. WTF, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/28/16

The problem in having a Plan B orchestrated by one Tony Stark, despite all the best field instructors S.H.I.E.L.D. can provide is that no matter the scenario, the billionaire’s preferred plan is to _always_ ‘attack’. His psych evaluation said as much. Plan A is simply have his C.O., aka Uncle Steve, direct him where to aim. Certainly, Tony Stark’s alter ego in Iron Man can be an asset in any theater of war. The reverse is also true, Iron Man’s id in Tony Stark can be a liability.

So as much as the S.H.I.E.L.D. graduate can surmise who and where his enemy was and how many ways a trap can be sprung, the statistical outcome of an ambush in the middle of a forest was three to one ratio. It was guerilla tactic 101 with the highest probability of success. Therefore, his countermeasure of plan B was to get behind a barricade and pick them off until he was out of ammo. Repulsors against bows and arrows? It would be almost too easy.

Except for the _not_ so tiny fact that the enemy has not one but _four_ Hulk-size combatants out there. What. The. Actual. Fuck!? Repulsors against Hulk-smash? Fucking run.

Although—

Mean and Green is one of a kind. So maybe only Hulk-size but no Hulk-smash? Revision amended. Time for Plan C.

His H.U.D. shows the twenty or so blips closing in from the perimeter with some elves already engage with infighting and currently kept the enemy busy from turning him into a human pincushion. The four, bigger and apparently slower blips are taking their sweet time. Giving him a minute or two at best to see what the fuck he’s dealing with.

Anticipating the coming battle, his pulse beat ratcheted up a notch as he tears off the glasses, secures it away before both gauntlets activates in seconds. Tony flexes his fingers and welcomes the familiar clinking of metal before he pulls out the hidden cables from the sleeves of his jacket and connects each wire linking directly to the arc reactor on his chest. Without it, each beam would only stun a person; with it though, a clear shot could do more than char flesh. Tony isn’t taking any chances.

“Tanna? Sunshine? Tell me you’re okay?” He said without bothering to look up while he checks out the view from the front of his mount. It looks like the twins, Ebony and Ivory, along with their guards aren’t doing too bad fending off some cloaked humanoids and what looks like extra rejects from a Mad Max movie. Hopefully those oddly placed horns and bone fragments are not really part of their bodies. Otherwise, Tony will have to make a point not to look too closely when he blow their shit up.

“Tis only a scratch,” she said. Though her tone sounds less certain than her words. Her horse whickers restlessly as if in agreement with Tony’s assessment. He tears his eyes away from the battle to see for himself.

“That is a gash and you are not allow to quote Monty Python at a time like this,” declares Tony as soon as he saw the still dripping wound on her deltoid. Her face was a study of pained concentration even as her once pristine tunic continues to stain crimson.

Then to make matters worse, the ground shook and a large tree topples over. A loud thump follow by a trailing scream as Tony witness one of the guards Tanna solicited went flailing over their heads and lands with an oomph against something solid. Tony’s horse shot off from fright.

“Oh shit!”

With sword drawn, Tanna has reined in her horse to face the oncoming threat, thereby opening up Tony’s remaining barrier. So much for the barricade idea he thought when his astounded eyes went up and up as he tries to take in one of the not-Hulk for the first time. 

The _thing_ was huge. And it did look like the Thing from F4, except instead of one malleable body of mutated rock, this _thing_ was comprise of disproportionate loose rocks and black pebbles for eyes. It was better than any fantasy movie special effects.

“Pretty things. Uroc like.”

It even has a name, though how unoriginal was that? If Tony had to imagine what talking rocks would have sound like; that would have come pretty close. All rough and grinding, with lots of clacking noises for each fricative sound. It was awesome and totally unrelated to anything helpful in defeating the damn thing as it advances. Tanna reins her horse back to maintain distance. Tony couldn’t blame her, but there was only so much room to maneuver as the sound of battle rage on from both sides. 

“Run! You lack wit!”

Tony heard the command before the Captain’s feral pack mate quite literally rock climbs up the creature’s back and began tearing into it, chucking stone and boulders at the cloak assailants fighting his Alpha. 

And what a sight she was. His attention captured by the surprisingly graceful, yet deadly way their suppose traitor was cutting down a path towards them while on horseback. So much for that betrayal theory, at least for now.

His relief was short lived as a blood curdling screech punch through the thundering chaos with its soundbite. Tony swerves his head to the other combatants. Right before his eyes another creature with orange crusted skin covered with some brown leather patched-up loin cloth, and half the size of Hulk on a good day rip Valto from his mount even as he kicks the horse towards Huilomë’s own. The elf fell with his steed yet manage to roll out of harm’s way and into a crouch before launching after his fiancé at a run. The fury on his face only matched by the deadly swing of his duel scimitar to those who dares to stand in his way.

Tony wasted no time either, a burst from each palm clears a path of green-cloaked enemies for Huilomë who only glance his way, gave a curt nod before disappearing through the foliage.

Then out of the blue, a rough grey iron grip hauls Tony back against a solid chest, squeezing the remaining air from his lungs as he’s lifted several feet off the ground. The stench the creature gave off both familiar and overpowering. He felt faint from the proximity.

Ugh! He was so stupid. Standing there gawking like a newb in a mock battle. Struggling with all his might to budge the branch-size arms, Tony kicks uselessly against the unmovable force.

“Ulik will fetch a good price for that one,” crows the foul smelling beast much too close to Tony’s ear for his liking. He cringes upon feeling the other’s putrid breath as it continues to pollute the airwaves, “You I keep, little one.”

“Prince Anthony!” Screams Tanna before she spurs her horse around yet hesitates with her sword in hand. Seeing the worry in her eyes, Tony didn’t think, he raises a palm over his shoulder and fires a blast where he thought the creature’s head was. A roar of pain tore through the sounds of clashing metal and hoof beats, scattering even the birds from the surrounding trees. The grey skin creature drops Tony like a hot potato in favor of grabbing his face. Just as he clears the ground, Tanna darts her horse forward and stab her sword straight through the creature’s abdomen before tearing it out. Another roar sends her horse to rear up in fright as she tightens her grip and prance her mount out of harm’s way just as the grey Alpha launch forward.

Tony knew he recognized that grey skin alien with the sharp teeth was the same Alpha that manhandled him back at the tavern. Tony may forget names attached to them, but he has a thing about faces. Even though his memory of that night was foggy at best, he can recall that much. Had the fucker been carrying a torch for him all this time? Ew.

Crab-walking backward as fast as he could, Tony knew he couldn’t get away fast enough and raises his arm to take several potshots, to buy some time. Scorched as he was, the grey Alpha kept advancing as if the blasts were pesky mosquito bites.

His racing heart was thumping loudly in his ears. Shit! Now is not the time to panic and—

Out of nowhere, Tanna cuts between them on foot. She plants her feet and stood her ground, larger than life as Tony veers up at her back, transfixed in horror. All he could see was her arms gesticulating quickly as if performing a dance, then a bright ball of light shot out from nowhere and saturates the entire vicinity blinding everything it reaches.

* * *

Disoriented for however long, Tony wakes and immediately tense when he felt the firm cage of an armored embrace. He’s atop a horse, on someone’s lap. Blinking as much as he could, fear takes hold as blindness clings to his sight until he heard Captain T’Pol growl out, “Be still. Tanna has bought us some time, but more will come.”

They weren’t on the main road, he figured that much. He can feel the occasional brush of branches catching on before snapping back as they hurdle through the forest sporadically. Her control masterful and yet chaotic even at their speed. Tony couldn’t hear anything else beyond the pounding hooves and their own panting breaths. Then clarity struck his body cold.

“Wh—where’s Tanna and the others?”

“Either dead or captured,” she says rather bluntly.

Shocked at first by her words, anger soon overtook the fear for his companion— no, his friends. Tony clench his eyes in impotent fury before spitting out his words, “They may not be my pack mates, but unlike you, I will not abandon my friends.”

Then he felt it, her hand constricting his airways just for a split second before she relents. The steel weight of her hand heavy on his throat before she removes her grip.

“Who could be dead. Have care, little Omega,” she purrs, though the threat was clear, “you know nothing of my pack. Unlike your _friends_ , Ferrin and his brood finds their own way back to me.”

Confused by her words and the familiar cadence of her tone, Tony ignores the nagging feeling to catch his breath before he tries a different tactic, “They’re not dead. If you will not rescue them, I will.”

He really hates not being able to see, otherwise Tony would have deck her a good one, girl or not, when she has the audacity to laugh in his ear. It was all mockery yet familiar somehow.

“I suppose you are correct, given the marauders and their troll allies left most of the escorting Betas dead. Most likely the rest were taken for profit. While we only managed to kill seven of theirs and none of the trolls,” accounted the Captain as if she was giving status on the weather. She then switches back to being amused as it tinge her every word, “I wonder how you would fare against these bandits on your own? Such a grand prize offering up as sweetmeat. I applaud your gallantry, little one, but such sacrifices are needless.”

She has a point, but Tony wasn’t raise by Steve Rogers to give up. So he took to sarcasm instead, “Little? You aren’t that big yourself, sister. So what? You telling me I should head back into the lap of luxury and let them be sold into slavery?”

For a brief moment, Tony thought he saw a flash of color before his eyes watered and has to close them again.

“Such imagination you have. Nay, the nobles in your group will be ransomed while the lesser will be sold to a collector most like. If your friends turn out to be Omegas, they will fetch a good price and live in the lap of luxury as you would say.”

Feeling as how their slowing down for some reason, suspicion quickly jump to the forefront of Tony’s thoughts as he mulls over the jumble of clues. He tries again to open his eyes and was happy to be greeted by the sight of something, even though it was blurry at best. So he feints defeat and slumps forward on the horse’s mane. Subtly, Tony drew one of the black steel throwing knives from his sleeve and jams it on the Captain’s thigh before pushing off the pommel and head-butts behind him with her grunt as reward.

Tony didn’t want to stick around to be cursed at or worse, killed. He quickly slid off the horse and half ran, half stumbling his way as he reactivate his gauntlets. Thank Einstein he still have those at least. He only made a few yards at best until he heard some fast approaching footsteps. Fearing for the worst, Tony shot first and ask questions later. A shrill yelp follow by a familiar whine cut through the frantic beating of his heart and the subsequent rumbling growl stops him cold.

“Fenrir, stand down.”


	18. A Modern Myth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/28/16

Cold sweat mottles his face even as his California tan bled from his skin. Tony gulps down whatever’s left of his bravado and nearly pissed in his pants. If he lives through this, he’ll never make fun of blind spandex affiliates like Daredevil or Cyclops ever again (although both are technically sight challenged, but whatever).

“’Twas a mishap,” he hears Loki reason calmly from somewhere behind him. “Nothing more; Hati is unscathed.”

The responding growl levels up from menacing to terrifying upon the mentioning of said offspring.

Oh, he’s so dead.

The realization of what he must have done finally sinks in like a bowling ball to his gut and topples his already wobbly legs right from under him. Just his luck, it was all the excuse the large wolf needed. Tony can literally hear the rush of padded paws pounding straight at him when the blurry black mass becomes clearer by the second.

Oh JC on a stick!

He could hear Loki shouting from a distance, but at this point Tony can honestly say just about all his faculties seem to have clocked out. Oh how he wished he’d paid more attention to those rare times when his mom dragged him to Sunday mass. Is it too late to learn a prayer or two?

Shaking uncontrollably, Tony curls into a fetal position and absolutely refuse to play dead like they taught him at S.H.I.E.L.D. because that shit was dumb. His erratic heartbeat overpowers everything else and may have mess with his hearing. For suddenly there is an octet of pounding steps and the vicious snarling echoes in surround sound, the likes an audiophile would pay an arm or a leg for. Considering the venue, they’re more than welcome to take his place he thought.

A gruff bark pierces through the fog that numb his senses. Tony whips his head up to the source. He would have release a demented whoop at the full return of his sight if it weren’t for the scene before him.

Two frighteningly large black wolves, one dark as pitch and the other, slightly bigger with a tint of barium nitrate in its coloring, were lock in a standoff worthy of any old western. Where the green-black wolf came from Tony has no clue but it was the only thing between him and Fenrir. The deep rumbling from the newcomer makes all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Freaky as the thought was, the Omega within him felt protected by the gesture. Especially after a quick scan of his surroundings has Tony tearing up in despair. If he was panicking before, Tony is near hysterical now. Loki has abandon him, along with that no good Captain T’Pol. There were only the two wolf cubs huddling not far away, one hunch over the side of the other licking at their injury all the while watching them with wary eyes. Was this poetic justice then? His fate to be decided by a pack of wolves?

The tension was unbearable as the two fought a battle with their posturing. It was a scene straight out a documentary narrated by Sir David Attenborough. For Tony however, it was nerve-wrecking and scare the bejesus out of him when Fenrir lunge without warning. Tony gasp in fright and quickly backpedals even as the green-black wolf charge to intercept. Fenrir feints to the right and propels forward with his hind legs, snapping his foaming maw a few inches shy of Tony’s leg. A sharp whine emits from Fenrir who’s digging his claws to the ground, desperate to reach him.

Holy shit!

Tony rolls out of the way and not a moment too soon. With a loud thump displacing dirt and debris, the newcomer stops dragging Fenrir’s leg only to wrestle the large black wolf to the ground with his jaw clamping tight around Fenrir’s neck, a mere foot from where Tony had been. A low warning growl emanates from its throat even as Fenrir snarls in his struggle to break free. It wasn’t until the other applies a bit more pressure did the black wolf finally relents with a whine in supplication and is release from its hold.

For a pregnant moment, only heavy breathing can be heard in the clearing. Even Tony was winded by the exchange and equally stun by the revelation that the newcomer had been defending him all along. 

It was Fenrir that eventually broke the lapse in silence when he stumbles to his feet then lock fathomless black eyes to Tony’s. He flinch as if suffering a physical blow. It was by far the creepiest yet weirdest feeling of a guilt trip he ever had—by a wolf no less. 

Tony grimace before he offers up an apology, “I’m sorry. I know it’s not much of an excuse but I was blind at the time?”

The black wolf didn’t budge and continues his stare down. Tony gulps. He’s impressed; his Uncle Steve could use a few lessons.

Then the newcomer nudges Fenrir on the side with its muzzle. In response the black wolf flashes his pearly whites at Tony before padding away to tend to his pups. That was all the confirmation he needed for Tony to promptly collapse on his back, surrendering to a relief so strong his body was vibrating with it.

So it isn’t his fault that he may have squealed (just a tad) when the other wolf looms above him. Startling iridescent green orbs bore down on his brown. This one isn’t as nerve-wrecking. Taking a few calming breaths, Tony slowly telegraphs his every move as he achingly rose from his supine disadvantage to a sitting one, never once breaking eye contact. 

Oddly as it sound, Tony doesn’t feel threaten. He stares back when the wolf quirk its head to the side and…grins? Tony’s brows shot up immediately. It’s fucking surreal knowing he was indebted to a wolf that seem more sentient by the minute. Was he actually having an awkward moment with an animal?

Then something else caught his eye. Apparently the wolf was injured during the scuffle. The left quad of its hind leg was seeping blood. Maybe it was all kinds of crazy, but Tony wants to repay the favor. Taking a gander at the wolf to assess its intelligence once more, Tony went with his gut assumption and decides to make like a freaking Disney Princess and talk to it.

“Look, um…whatever your name is. I’m going to call you Pal since I don’t want to misgender anything even though you’re clearly a badass. And no, I’m not going to peek at your junk or sniff your butt to clarify the issue.”

Oh wow, the wolf just did a brow raise equivalent to Tony in response.

“Well, erm…look Pal, you’re bleeding and I have a small medical kit that can help. So try not to bite me, okay?”

After a pause and no visible objections beyond a licking of its chops (which he thinks the wolf did that to mess with him), Tony pulls out a white plastic wrapped kit from his breast pocket and rips it open. Inside were two packs of alcohol wipes, a packet of Neosporin, four strips of 2x2 inch gauze and a small roll of medical adhesive tape. He did a little show-and-tell miming to the wolf before shuffling his way to the injured leg.

At first glance it looks like a gash but upon a closer look, it was more like a puncture wound. Yet, a single puncture too thin and even to match any claw and tooth mark big or small. How odd. 

Doing a mental shrug, Tony peels out one of the wipes and gave a fair warning, “This might sting a little so remember, no biting.”

The wolf growls at the initial touches before shuffling back to sit on its haunches but otherwise remain still. Tony kneels down in adjustment then continues cleaning the wound. It didn’t take long before his usual rambling took over, “So uh, thanks for the intervention especially after the so-called Alphas abandon me. How fucked up is that, right? But I guess if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be here running with wolves…”

With the area fairly cleaned, Tony is able to assess the wound somewhat better and relates his findings, “Um, I hate to break it to ya Pal, but this stab wound looks pretty deep and probably need stitches—”

There is brief flash of light that Tony had to blink away and is caught staring a moment later at a leather covered thigh rather dumbfounded.

“I wonder whose fault that would be?” Quip a very male voice just above his head.

And the subsequent scream that followed? It was no one’s business but his own and the birds he scattered off.

* * *

Tony Stark doesn’t sulk.

He may pout, be petty and turn belligerent, but he most certainly does not sulk. Anyone who says otherwise is committing slander and will receive a personal visit from his attorney. Along with a certain Loki of Asgard who will definitely get a letter from his lawyer once Tony leaves this fantasy island of a planet.

Howard, old Nicky and their W.S.C. cronies can stick it to each other for all the secrecy they manage to keep from Tony all these years despite his hacking efforts. It was false advertisement. He was bought and sold to the whole ancient alien theory, not this D&D rendition where all his research on Norse myth seem more like bad sci-fi than what he’s been led on. And for what? Tony’s met Mystique and worked with a few enhanced humans, mutants, mutates, and whatnot. So what if his fiancé's world is filled with even more weird shit? He can handle whatever half-truth is from fiction as fact.

People he cared about got hurt today and many he didn’t know died protecting him. So Loki, God of Mischief, Fire ( or whatever was always the villain in many of these myths) has a lot of explaining to do.

So yeah, Tony’s not sulking. He’s pissed.

Currently, they’re on a horse again, more specifically Ofrid. Tony fucking knew something was up with that. Thor wouldn’t have saddled any old horse he wasn’t familiar with since he barely visits Alfheim. But whatever. Due to his earlier manly scream, Loki wasted no time to clamp a dirty sleeve over Tony’s mouth and issued a warning to be quiet. Then the Prince quickly done a pretty bang-up job patching himself up with the med kit before whistling for his horse and none too gently plop Tony’s stupefied butt onto the saddle before hopping on too. They’ve been trotting through the forest for the past twenty minutes or so with Fenrir and his pack trailing closely behind. Tony was relieved to see that Hati’s up and moving about although looking a bit singed.

Not one to stay silent for long, Tony gave the offender another glare for good measure despite having to look over his shoulder and crank his neck upwards to do so. Loki, the bastard, didn’t even bother to acknowledge him at all. 

Tony reciprocates with an eye roll before he turns back around and huffs, “I must admit you got me good. At first I thought you were more of a Team Edward type of guy especially with the pale skin minus the sparkles, although the whole werewolf gig makes for a great plot twist. I should have made the connection given that you’re surrounded by wolves, no duh. But man, do you have to be such a bitch as Captain T’Pol?”

Loki doesn’t answer immediately but steers the horse to take a sharp turn around a boulder and a low hanging branch promptly smacks Tony on the face. Grinding his teeth in irritation, Tony swats at the offending foliage to send it backwards. Only to grunt in disappointment when Loki dodge his head in time.

“Your propensity to spew nonsense continues to astonish me. What _are_ you prattling on about?” said Loki in a conversational manner.

“Give it up. Your covers blown. All of them,” Scoffs Tony in return, no longer playing nice, “What’s going on Loki? Why the disguises in the first place? Was Lady Stiff and the Three Stooges right about you all along?”

Tony could feel the body behind him tense up even though Loki responds in the same manner as before, “Believe what you will, my reasons are my own. Be assured you will be safe in my brother’s arms again once I find you a proper escort back to Gimlé.”

“No fucking way! My friends need rescuing and you are going to help me,” declares Tony as he stabs Loki’s uninjured thigh to punctuate his point. That actually hurt his finger more than it probably did Loki. There was solid muscle underneath all that leather. 

Loki seem not to mind and is back to his default self, being an asshole that is, “Tis remarkable how your decorum has cease with Thor’s absence. Should I inform him of your counterfeit ways?”

“I’m 100% authentic hot-blooded American. If you can’t stand the sass than get out of the kitchen,” retorts Tony in kind before remarking, “And you sir, are changing the subject. I see what you try to do there. So what’s the plan?”

They stopped above a small ridge overlooking a cozy grove that opens up amongst a copse of deciduous trees and shrubs. The surrounding provided a natural barrier with an outcrop of smashed boulders that had probably fallen down from the nearby cliff wall and rolled downhill. Tony hadn’t realize until then that the sun was setting pretty low, stretching large shadows canvassing the valley.

Then Tony gulps upon looking down from his viewpoint. If that was their destination, Loki better have some damn good horsemanship skills. As soon as that thought passes, Loki had click his teeth before gently maneuvering the horse over and down the slippery edge. Tony grips the pommel until his knuckles turned white even as he locked his legs as best he could.

Loki was cool as a cucumber when he inquires offhandedly, “What makes you think I have a plan?”

“Seriously!? We’re having this conversation now?” Wheezes Tony with whatever air was left in his lungs.

“You did ask. Tis good a time as any. You seem to have it all figured out. Please enlighten me, little one.”

Tony looks over his shoulder and glares at the arrogant man behind him, “Why do you keep calling me that? I’m five feet, seven and half inches and still growing.”

Loki shrugs before replying, “I call all sentient beings that are younger and smaller than me, _little one_. Do you find it offensive?” 

“Put it like that, I guess not,” mumbles Tony before he remembers what his real anger was about, “So why did you do it? ‘Cuz you knew they were coming for us, right?”

At first Tony thought the other would try to redirect the topic again but then caught the pensive look within those green orbs. He hadn’t realize he was leaning a bit too close when he felt Loki’s sigh on his cheek. Tony notes the other’s breath smells surprisingly of fresh wintergreen mint before he flinches away. The horse whiney in alarm as they slid a few inches. Loki is quick to reel in both the horse with one hand on the rein and Tony with a palm over his chest, right over the arc reactor. Only a thin layer of cloth service as barrier. Tony gulps again.

“Have care. Lean back against me for counterbalance, little one,” Loki warns softly before curiosity tinge his voice, “I was not aware that Midgardians have such similarities with the Kree. Does it serve a purpose?”

“Could you remove your hand?” whispers Tony then a little louder when the other didn’t comply fast enough, “Please?”

The hand withdrew immediately. Only then did Tony allow himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath in and out. Unfortunately the feeling of vertigo returns and he caught himself from lurching when they finally reach leveled ground. Loki nudges the horse to move forward. Tony took a cursory look behind and was stunned by how steep the decline actually was. But beyond the initial panic and the latter vertigo, he’d hardly notice their descent. Huh.

With a sheepish grin plaster on his face, Tony stares up at Loki and contemplates what he wanted say to the trickster.

Until Loki beat him to the punch that is, “Forgive me. I had not meant to pry and cause you further discomfort.”

It was the perfect opening and Tony’s lips twitch as he tried to hold back the grin that was threatening to break free. It was a feat but he manage just barely before he press his luck, “I will forgive you _only if_ you fill me in on what’s going on. And don’t give me that runaround shit either. Considering how you botched the whole protection detail gig, I think your plans need a second pair of eyes. Do we have a deal?”


	19. Art and Artifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/28/16

It didn’t work. Tony knew the moment Loki’s lips slotted upward as if it was carve out of habit. He can see why Thor’s pack mates kept referring Loki as the trickster. Though the tone they used makes it sound more like a cursed epithet. He suspects the second Prince is prone to something more than just any frat boy hijinks.

“You will have to wager better than that to tempt me with such an overture,” Loki taunts.

His knee jerk reaction to that would have made quite possibly, all of his close friends and pack mates to perform a collective face-palm. Appearing crestfallen from the letdown, Tony spun around, dips his chin, and is most definitely not sulking. Instead, his eyes narrow as he bides his time, waiting until they cross the glen and stop at the edge of the grove. That’s when Tony takes a couple of deep breathes, adding a little hitch for affect. Then quite slowly, he peers back around with damp eyelashes and deliberately chokes on his initial word, “Wh…Why are you so dead set against my getting involved? I only want to help my friends.”

Arrested in the motion of dismounting, Loki appear surprised before his demeanor turn unreadable. The way he’s looking at Tony was unnerving. He didn’t know what gave him away but eventually it only took one raise brow to know that his gambit had fail.

“Best save those dove-eyes for dullards like my brother and Fandral,” chides Loki with a devilish glint in his eyes.

More offended than embarrass, Tony turns away even as Loki continues gloating, “However I will grant that your duplicitous performance was at the least, most entertaining. As reward for your audacity to appeal to my humanity, if you promise to behave and make tonight’s meal, I shall entertain you with a bedtime story.”

“Do I look like I’m five?” Snap Tony when he turns around to face the other.

The bastard half-shrugs then dismounted the horse before waiting to assist Tony. Out of sheer stubbornness, he promptly ignores the other in favor of doing it himself, no matter how awkward it made him look. He then make sure to express the full force of how not impress he was by crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side, a perfect imitation of one Ms. Pepper Potts at a Senior Executive Board meeting.

Instead of being cowed, Loki smirks then throws Tony a patronizing bone when he offered, “Know this, I may or may not embellish upon what you wish to hear.”

It’s damn well infuriating when Tony knows he has no choice since Loki seem to have all the leverage. So he capitulated begrudgingly, “Fine, but I warn you. I only know how to make a mean cup of coffee and a few smoothies. Anything else would be experimental.”

“This coffee and smoothie does not sound appetizing. Tis unheard of in Asgard for an Omega to not know how to cook,” mock Loki when he grab the reins and took off down a random path.

Tony quickly moves to be on step with Loki, leaving Fenrir and his brood to complete the procession behind the horse. When he caught up to the other, Tony didn’t shy away from stating his opinion on the matter, “Hey, don’t knock it until you tried it and don’t give me that second gender stereotype crap. As backward as you space Vikings might think of Earth, even my old man said cooking would be a useless skill to have for a future spouse of a Crown Prince. That’s what servants are for.”

Only to have Loki scoff in quick repartee, “Aye, spoken like a true Consort. I had forgotten the luxurious living you would have on my brother’s lap—”

“Jeez Louis! Don’t start throwing my own words back at me like that,” Cut in Tony as he flush with mortification.

After throwing Tony an odd look, Loki kept right on talking as if he never interrupted, “Tis foolish of me to think that one such as yourself who had no qualm in using their wiles earlier would fall on such trope.”

Tony stops up short. The guy has a point. So he isn’t above using the stereotype when it’s to his advantage, it doesn’t make Tony a hypocrite does it? It’s strange to contemplate his past actions at a time like this and so he pushes the thought aside for another day, before quickening his pace to catch up. Letting that commentary slide for now, Tony promptly redirects the conversation.

“So where exactly are we going? I don’t know if you haven’t notice, but there isn’t going to be much daylight left and I doubt you’re taking me to grandmother’s house. Is there a cabin hidden in this grove or something?”

Loki halts on the spot and looks askance at Tony, taking a moment to glean some semblance of meaning before answering, “Nay. There is no such luxury here. Hopefully you will find the hidden glade beyond those trees to be acceptable to your Highness.”

Tony rolls his eyes and point out the obvious, “Ha ha. Pot meet kettle. Did you forget that you’re a Prince too?”

It’s really unfair how Loki’s gem for eyes seem to gleam with mischief right before he leans forward as if to share a dark secret, “You have mistaken. Unlike you, I can hunt, cook, clean, mend clothes, act as healer, cast magic, and am perfectly at ease without a retinue of servants to heed my every beck and call. So I suggest that now would be a great time to cast your entire so-called second gender stereotype to the wind and be useful.”

“If you’re so good at everything Omega, why don’t you—” and cut himself off when Tony’s initial thought process derails at something he thought he must have heard wrong, “Wait. Back up. Huh?”

Loki merely tilts his head to the side, demeanor completely innocent. He then replies to Tony’s initial interjection as if the argument was complete and ignores the latter sputtering entirely.

“By all means, trade occupation with me to secure and scent the perimeter with Fenrir. Meanwhile I would be more than happy to make you a mean cup of stew.”

Tony narrows his eyes in suspicion. Unaccustomed to being riled by another person so much in so short a time, he finds himself floundering to keep up.

“Fine. I’ll cook….erm, what exactly am I cooking? And with what?”

As he thought, Loki seem to have all the answers giftwrapped and ready to go.

“Fortunately, this glade is a frequent haunt for Thor and me. I have hidden some supplies in the branches yonder. You will find all that you need to prepare when we return with some game. I suggest you start by gathering firewood and make camp for the evening. You can at least do that, can you not?”

Tony's lips pursed firmly together in frustration. The urge to protest just to be contrary was warring with his Omega instincts to comply with the Alpha’s challenge. So he mumbles instead, “I guess.”

Loki nods and drops the rein before he continues with his instructions, “Good, Hati and Skoll shall keep you company. As much as they are there to protect you, if any harm is to come upon either of them—”

“Yeah, yeah; Fenrir will use me as a chew toy. I get it,” Tony states. It was a fact that even said wolf snorts in agreement with.

Loki glances over at his pet wolf and grins. Tony doesn’t know anyone can be more long-winded than Steve when the other adds even as he retreats back to where they entered, “I shall be back within the hour. The glade is pass those trees. Be a good little Omega and do not wander beyond.”

“Again, not five,” Snaps Tony in irritation.

He should have known that Loki likes having the last word when he heard, “By the by, make use of the neighboring brook while I am gone. You stink of river troll!”

And Tony’s parting words was not much better.

“Fuck off already!”

* * *

Walking into the glade felt like stepping into another world. Considering Tony is actually on another planet, the description seems inappropriate. Yet, he couldn’t retract the declaration. The colors are more vibrant somehow: from the lush emerald green of the moss covered ground to the yellow-red cap mushrooms stepping patterns on the trunk of the trees to the singular weird bluish grey monolith carved with swirls upon swirls and to the filtered sunlight streaming through like a mosaic. The air is much sweeter too: not sickening, but refreshing and clean. Also, the sounds around him are much clearer: not overpowering, but layered with birds twittering amidst the backdrop of a babbling brook to complete the picturesque scenery.

Tony felt like he’s disturbing the _Force_ just by being there.

Shit. What the heck was he thinking? Having caught himself waxing poetry of all things, he quickly went to work. An hour may sound like plenty of time to bathe and setup camp, but it isn’t.

First things first, Tony tethers Ofrid’s rein to a nearby branch before he went in search of the brothers’ secret stash. Not spotting anything from his initial position, he moves to stand in the middle of the camp, a few feet from the sunken fire pit and circles the thing to get a three-sixty view. It took him two tries with the baby wolves following his steps before Tony sees something hidden up in the branches behind the monolith.

“Well, will you look at that? Loki’s a regular old boy-scout,” says Tony to no one in particular, more out of habit in talking to J.A.R.V.I.S. than to fill the silence. That and the fact that he’s jaded enough to admit he likes the sound of his own voice. He has some of the best conversations and debates on occasion with and without the A.I. Plus, it has the added bonus in driving all his pack mates crazy.

The large sack blended well with the trees. He definitely would have missed it at first glance if he weren’t looking for it. And unfortunately, it’s a bit higher up than his short legs and arms can reach compare to the stupidly tall Asgardians.

Tony climbs the tree easily like the natural born monkey that he is and positions himself to nudge the sack down with his feet. Peering down to check the landing site, he finds the wolf cubs staring right back at him full of excitement.

“Skull-hat, move out of the way. On three. One. Two. Three!”

The twins barked as the sack hit the moss covered ground with a loud thump mix with a muffle tinkering of metal on metal. Hopefully, whatever contents inside survive the fall. If not, oh well.

He then drags the sack back to the clearing before detangling what felt like a Gordian knot to reveal a freakishly huge iron cauldron with a curve handle, a few copper bowls and spoons. There’s a smaller tightly wrapped package filled with a dozen pouches of dried herbs, grains, and ground seasoning and a rucksack with a few pairs of clothes. Seeing that reminds Tony of what Loki had said earlier. The Asgardian probably wasn’t joking when he commented on his smell. Tony felt like there’s a layer of blood, dirt and sweat covering his skin. And since that grey —water troll was it—rubbed itself all over his back, a bath sounds downright heavenly. 

But that would have to wait. Ticking off the second item on his mental list, Tony clears most of the leaves and twigs from the hearth then gathers a large pile of dried branches. After building a makeshift frame to hang the cauldron at the right height from the pyre, Tony uses one of the throwing knifes to shave off some tinder. 

Satisfied with his work so far, Tony dust off his hands before he warns the twin wolves, “Alright Skull-hat, I hope this doesn’t bring back any bad memories. Hold on to your fur when I say, _let there be light_.”

He activates a gauntlet and fire a pulse. The two yelp in fright before ducking behind Tony for cover. Shaking his head fondly, Tony couldn’t help but chastise them for their behavior as he check the little flame that caught on and soon lit up the camp.

“You two need to work on your menacing persona like your dad. Now that is a scary mo-fo. Okay, let’s go get some water. I’m thirsty as hell and no way am I chancing IBS on top of everything that’s happened. ”

Tony grabs the cauldron with one hand, or at least tried to. The thing weighs more than it looks. He took to mumbling to the pair of wolves not to tell anyone when he drags the thing down to the sound of running water.

Thankfully the trip there and back to the brook was an easy trek. After reinforcing the makeshift frame and ensuring the cauldron of water was boiling fine without it toppling, Tony quickly grabs the sack of clothes and rush to get clean before Loki returns and catches him in nothing but his jockstrap.

The water was ice cold. Skull-hat was smarter to avoid it entirely. He should have tested it before wading in. Earlier he’d only dunk the cauldron in to scoop up whatever he could drag with him. Now, Tony feels numb from the knee down. It was the fastest bath he ever had.

His teeth was still chattering even as he sat as close to the fire as possible, trying to soak up all the warmth despite knowing the pins and needles he would be feeling later. Anything was better than the feeling of his junk shrinking so close to his body that it might actually crawl back in. With shaking hands, Tony tries rolling up the overly long pirate sleeves before taking up a copper bowl to scoop up the boiling water. After letting it cool down a bit, he cradles the warp dishware as if it was the Holy Grail and took a long sip.

The effect was immediate. Despite the slightly sour after taste, the warmth from the water spreads like a furnace. It even dulls the tingling sensation on his skin as he felt a sudden lethargy take over. Tony didn’t remember falling asleep. His last coherent thought as he lay down to rest was wanting Skoll to stop licking his face even though he couldn’t feel a thing.


	20. Interlude: Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/28/16

Like a sharp knife, the cub’s howl pierce through the peacefulness of the valley. Even before the remnant of the echo fades, Loki shifts into his warg form at a run and is across the glen leaving Fenrir hot on his heels. He had not anticipated the sanctuary to be at risk but the distress rang clear. A number of scenarios came to mind yet none of them make sense. He took measures in covering their tracks while ensuring Fenrir’s scent thoroughly marked the area.

Panting slightly from his exertion, Loki shifts back upon reaching the grove. It takes but a moment to check the wards. A puzzled frown promptly mars his brow in discovering they were intact. Still, ‘twas best to take caution as they make their way down the path. The lack of sound and scent was more telling than not. 

The moment they enter the glade, Skoll and Hati perks up from their sentinel watch over the prone form. Their dark eyes wet with worry. Loki nods in acknowledgement then motions them to part.

The sight that greets him is at odds with his expectation. The Prince of Midgard does not seem to be in mortal peril. Albeit, the somnolent figure was sprawled much too close to the flames. Tis a wonder his clothes have yet to catch fire.

Nonetheless, Skoll and Hati would have reason to sound alarm.

A much more thorough perusal of the scene has Loki reevaluating his initial assumption. Something was bubbling in the black cauldron and the overturn bowl no doubt left traces of its contents. Tis obvious there were no signs of struggle, thus whatever resulted must be self-inflicted— or as the case may be, ingested. He considers and discards each and every toxin and poison that came to mind, their symptoms too severe for the sleeping beauty before him. Curious of the source, Loki crouch down to pick up the bowl and took a whiff. Although faint, the pungent stench of diños was unmistakable and expected, for the algae thrive at this time of year. The elves nearby had long since develop a tolerance to the paralytic effect for generations. Only newborns and sickly children succumb to its influence. Upon that revelation, a chuckle of amusement erupts from the trickster.

Such an unruly force when awake: so full of fire, wit, and vivacity. Yet, this man-child is Thor’s bride to be.

Tossing the bowl aside, Loki peers down at the sleeping mortal, seizing the opportunity to observe without repercussion. His gaze linger at what would be lively agate orbs currently hidden beneath ridiculously long lashes. They fan a sun-kissed complexion that stretch across tone contours of bone and sinew without a blemish. It makes him wonder whether it continues beneath those too-loose borrowed clothes. Green eyes soon dip to parted lips, parched with each puff of gentle breath though plush and altogether inviting still. 

By the Norns, if Loki only knew what his brother did to be thus favored.

Despite his absence, Thor’s scent lingers like a second skin. No doubt Prince Anthony, like all of Asgard, is clearly smitten by his brother. Tis evident, how proudly he parades in the colors of the first born and blushes upon any mentioning of the oaf.

Thor is a fool to leave such an alluring creature to pine for him like one of his previous dalliances. Loki knew were Thor truly bewitched by Anthony, he would have insisted to wed immediately and demand a wedding night sans heat or no. 

Nay… the oaf may be many things, but claiming an Omega before they are ripe he would not. And neither would Loki, though the temptation was hard to resist for the prize itself and the chaos such act will render.

It would take but one claiming to foil Odin’s tyrannical rule in uniting the Nine Realms and exact his vengeance on Thor for the centuries of bullying. There was none to oppose his actions and Loki would have the last laugh in one fell swoop.

It would have been the actions of a trickster from a century ago. A version dagger sharp, that seeks to gratify none other but himself yet hungers for any scrap of accolade. Nowadays, Loki refuses to bend over backwards. No longer has he played by rules that were meant to keep him contained and sedated by the illusion of power and glory. That was not his to begin with.

Instead, he has chosen to carve his own path, neither villain nor hero. Whether it will take him another century or more, it will be done on his own terms.

For the time being, Loki has a blood oath to fulfill and a tempting Prince to awaken.


	21. A Trickster's Lullaby, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 6/28/16

_“You remember this one, right?”_

_That voice! It’s been years since… Wait, why was he back in Malibu looking at the Pacific skyline…Oh no! This must mean…tried as he might, his body wouldn’t budge from his slouch position and only garbled noises emitted from his numb lips. Tony felt his gorge rising with dawning horror as his eyes knew immediately where to look and met Obadiah Stane’s smug ass grin from his peripheral. No! No no no no no!_

_“It's a shame the government didn't approve it,” gloated the traitor even as he brandish one of Tony’s own abandoned design mere inches from his face._

_“There are so many applications for causing short-term paralysis.”_

_No! Seething with impotent fury at the unreasonable amount of inherit fear in seeing the man again, Tony’s breathing sped up even as his heart rate doubled its pace._

_“Tony—”_

_Shit! The fucker always did love to monologue. Just once, Tony wants to change the dreaded script._

_“When I ordered the hit on Howard—”_

_He wanted to scream and wail at the memory to stop. But without fail, those words triggered a wave of emotions that cause his breath to turn shallow while his body shook with the onslaught and sweat began to prickle about his face and neck. That was one of the design flaws of the paralyzer. Though it did its job and immobilized the target, it also doubled the target’s sensory acuity. The government had banned it citing the Geneva Conventions and Tony had thought of it no more._

_“I worried that I was killing the golden goose. I thought I nearly lost everything when he brought the whole family along. But, you see, it was just fate that you survived that. Old Howard had one last golden egg to give.”_

_Step by step as Obie rounded the sofa, the man began to uncoil the viperous Alpha hidden behind the caretaker act. Damn it. Tony clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to see once again the feverish greed from a man he used to look up to almost as a father. He remembered vividly the man’s hateful touch before it actually connected and flinched upon contact with his cheek. If only the traitor had stopped there. He mock caressed Tony’s cheek, before running a thumb over his lower lip. It made Tony sick to his stomach. Then Obie trailed a hand down his neck and pause at the edge of his shirt. Tony cringed once more upon hearing the rip in fabric and shrank from what came immediately afterwards. The caress resumed its trek on his upper torso and lingered to exact a harsh flick at his nipple. Tony gritted his teeth as revulsion kept his body seething with rage and helped staunch his Omega instincts to submit._

_The fucker dared to sound amused at his reaction or lack thereof, “Did you really think that just because you’re a privileged Omega, that your body belongs to you?”_

_Finally, the hand was off his skin. Tony itched to scrub it raw again, yet knew what came next was much worse. His efforts redoubled to beat the foregone conclusion. Again, his body refused to cooperate even as his mind rebelled to reliving this excerpt of his life._

_“Your father, he helped gave us the atomic bomb. Now, what kind of world would it be today if he was as selfish as you? You should have accepted Zeke’s proposal, Tony. But he’s a proud boy, vowed never to have you even if you beg with slick soaked thighs. Such a shame really, I was looking forward to being a grandpa. Now, I’ve considered taking you for myself, but that would just make the holidays awkward. In the meantime, I’ll help myself to this.”_

_Enough! He wanted to shout but Obie’s hand returned to trace the perimeter of the arc reactor’s housing. Tony couldn’t control the shivers that wrecked his body even if he could move._

_“Oh, it's beautiful. Tony, this is your Ninth Symphony. What a masterpiece. Look at that. This is your legacy: a new generation of weapons with this at its heart. Weapons that will help steer the world back on course, put the balance of power in our hands. The right hands, not this shadowy A.S.G.A.R.D. entity your father’s been hiding from the board. Goodbye, Tony.”_

_He reopened his eyes to glare daggers at Obie in committing this final act of betrayal. The bluish glow of the arc reactor flared a neon green before it was pulled from his chest._

* * *

Tony jolts awake, immediately his hand rose protectively over his chest even as he gasps desperately for air. The dream too real to be discarded sends him reeling back, frantically crawling away from a phantom assailant. 

“You must stop, Anthony!”

Disoriented still, whoever spook him might as well be speaking Greek. Tony flatly ignores the command and fails to heed its warning until it was too late. The heat from the flames licked at his fingers, causing him to cry out in pain before he was abruptly plucked away. It served to shock his system better than a splash of cold water. It’s several minutes before his breath and heart rate calms down enough for him to sag against a surprisingly chilled embrace.

“Do you often cause such ruckus upon rousing?”

Taken aback by the unexpected soft words so close to his face, hunted brown eyes search and met calm iridescent green reflecting off the firelight.

Loki…

It took a moment for Tony’s brain to catch up. Night had fallen and the dimly lit sleek whitewash décor of his Malibu mansion was supplanted with cutting shadows of the glade. And most importantly, Obadiah was lightyears away dead in his grave. That awareness brought the remaining adrenaline rush to a halt and he releases a shuddering breath in relief. 

It takes him another moment of blinking owlishly up at Loki to recall the long expired question. And that recollection led to a different revelation. He’s way pass the point of being mortified over proper social etiquette, though Tony’s never one to follow societal dictates too closely in the first place less Steve is around and or the event calls for it. This instance, he chose to address the situation head on as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Because, honestly. And besides, not like Loki has minded his outrageous comments before.

“Are _you_ often this handsy?”

Loki didn’t even blink before he sass back, “If you so oppose, I wonder why you have not remove yourself hence?”

He really shouldn’t have encourage it further, but the familiar cadence of their banter was helping to drive away the remnant of those resurfaced memories. Tony bit his lip as a deterrent, only to relent due to poor impulse control a second later, “I would if I could, but my fingers hurt, there’s a weird taste in my mouth and it feels like my body has been stepped on by a giant troll or something. Either that or there’s been a time jump and I’m in some hospital. Most likely shot with an epidural or hopped up on some hallucinogenic painkiller, about to give birth to a nine pound two ounces alien Viking baby boy.”

Tony actually felt proud of the fact that he manage to get Loki to raise not one, but two brows to his hairline before the other quip in return, “Tis rather specific this delusion of yours. Were I not acquainted with your incessant ramblings I would have question the ingredients that cured your ailment. Unfortunately there is no remedy for absurdity.”

“Is there one for longwinded, acerbic assholes?” He quickly shot back with a silly grin on his face.

Only to have Loki leer back in turn, “Most certainly. Would you prefer I make another potion for you or apply a balm posthaste?”

“As if,” Tony responds lamely and feeling quite warm all of a sudden.

Oh crappers. Ambassador Larien’s words came back to haunt him. Not wanting to be blame for any potential intergalactic incident, Tony fake-clears his throat and declares awkwardly, “Actually, I ah— I’m all better now. So uh, thanks.”

And it most certainly wasn’t guilt he felt when he began to stiffly extricate from the other’s grasp. He needn’t be worried about Loki pitting against Thor (considering the oblivious look the other was now sporting), it should be himself.

As if to deny that thought entirely, Tony couldn’t be removed from Loki’s arms fast enough and he pushes off with his hands only to hiss in pain upon doing so. His left hand immediately throbs with a dull ache at each pulse beat. In the low light of the fire, he cringe to find the level of damage he caused. Tentatively touching his left hand with his right, he notes that it was slightly swollen although luckily no blisters has form.

“May I?” ask Loki quite formally.

Against his own volition, color blooms throughout his body. Thankfully the red-orange glow of the campfire helped mask the effect of those words (though it was the tone really) or else he wouldn’t be able to look at the second Prince for a day and half. It’ll take him at least that long to think of an excuse and repress his hormones like a good angst ridden teenager should. 

Shaking his head out of the weird introspective space it had been in since waking, he peers up through his lashes from his awkwardly sprawled, half-hunched over half-kneeling position. Seeing the concern on Loki’s face makes him all the more uncomfortable than he ought to be, so Tony veers his gaze before holding out his injured hand, palms up like he was begging for money.

Doing his best to ignore Loki’s tender grasp on his sleeve covered wrist, Tony’s wandering eyes takes in the glade after dark. Compare to what he saw during daylight, he hadn’t realized that the towering trees that filtered the sun earlier now served a different purpose. The healthy blaze from the center fire pit rose up the natural dome and lit up the glade like a luminous fishbowl, effectively excising them from the outside world. And that was a big no no!

Despite having a group of animals as his chaperone, they might as well be alone. This went against all the things Howard had taught him, even though these alien princes has shown more courtesy than any of the Alphas Tony has encountered on Earth. That was saying something. If Tony wasn’t so cocksure of his own appeal, he might have been insulted. What it did do was help put things into perspective for him. Early detection of any risks or defects can be mitigated with some redesign before it can affect the rest of the system. So with a bit more resolve to be wary, Tony pointedly refuses to acknowledge their close proximity or the tingling sensation stemming from the other’s grasp. 

“There, that should do it,” declares Loki without preamble.

“Huh?” And that was Tony’s elegant response when he turns to blink owlishly at the second Prince once again.

Loki smirks then rose from his crouch position before spelling it out to Tony, “Tis all healed.”

“No way!”

Even as he said that, Tony peers down and sure enough, the swelling along with the dull ache was gone. He flexes his fingers tentatively at first then forms a fist and pumps the air several times in celebration before stopping abruptly.

“Wait, what did you do?” Tony hadn’t meant to sound ungrateful but whatever was done to heal him in a matter of minutes requires an explanation.

Per usual, Loki ignores the question. Instead the second Prince bents down next to the fire pit and scoop out a bowl of something steamy from the cauldron with a spoon. Now that he’d seen the food, Tony finally takes in the fragrant aroma that permeates the air and his stomach immediately growls for attention. Loki paused then tilts his head at the sound before handing the bowl and spoon to Tony without any comment, although he did see the other’s lip twitch. 

Too hungry to take offense, Tony says instead, “I’m grateful and all, but could you ah…put it down. I’ll take it from there. Thanks.”

Loki sends Tony a puzzled look before he did as requested then walks over to Fenrir and his cubs. While the other stretches out against the side of the lounging wolf, Tony reaches for the bowl and cradles it between his palms. Thankfully it isn’t overly hot. If the stew tastes as good as it smells then it will definitely help make this shitty day a little better.

He lifts the bowl, taste a tentative spoonful and immediately shovels the rest in his mouth with a gusto.

“I take it my cooking is to your liking?”

In spite of hearing the laughter in Loki’s tone, Tony chose to forgive him in honor of the delicious stew he’d just polish off. It’s only after he wipes his mouth with his sleeve did Tony deem to answer with mild interest lest he inflates the other’s ego further, “Not bad, not bad at all. You might give my Uncle Steve a run for his Irish stew recipe.”

“Good. Then you shall tell me about your dream as repayment,” states Loki without an ounce of humor. In fact, Tony is pretty sure that was the other’s I’m-a-Prince-and-so-you-do-what-I-say voice.


	22. A Trickster’s Lullaby, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 7/16/16

Tony took it as a joke and laughs it off. It was either that or pay attention to this nagging feeling in an unexplored part of his psyche. It has no business finding that tone of voice to be so appealing in any way, shape or form. However, Loki’s stony expression clearly vetoes his poor judgement. Given how invasive the topic was, he just couldn’t— abruptly he cast his gaze aside and presses his lips firmly as images of what happened years ago flash before his waking eyes.

Hating the trembling that immediately follow, Tony purses his lips and tilt his chin up in defiance before he gave Loki a piece of his mind, “I don’t know what makes you think you have the right to –”

“Do I not?” interrupts Loki as he sat forward, rests a forearm over a bent knee, and issues a challenge. 

Tony couldn’t help but notice the Alpha’s voice seem to have deepened. Taken aback by the sudden shift the other was now displaying, he finds himself trembling for a different reason entirely. Shaking his head from the weird emotion vying for attention, he chose instead to restart his argument, “I—”

And was rudely cutoff again, “Throughout our escape, you have been doggedly imposing your will to be _in_ on my plans. Furthermore, in just the short length of our acquaintance, you have cajoled, demanded, bargained, and manipulated to gain your advantage.”

Tony’s mouth gaped openly at the verbal take down as he struggle to form words that for once weren’t coming. Apparently he needn’t bother because Loki wasn’t finish, “And not once have I encountered a rare version of you.”

Then up goes that rictus grin, “Until now.”

Caught like a deer in oncoming traffic, Tony couldn’t look away.

“Since you have been remiss in completing your task for this evening and I doubt you are set to retire so soon upon wakening, I would offer you this: instead of our previous arrangement, our roles shall be reversed. If you succeed in entertaining me in retelling your recent dream, I shall permit you a sliver of knowledge of my plans. What say you?”

Tony can’t say whether he’s impressed or jealous, maybe a bit of both if he’s honest. That certainly cinches it; he’s taking Ambassador Larien up on that offer. But first, unhurried in his actions, Tony places his bowl and spoon down and gets comfortable. Taking a few calming breaths with his eyes closed, Tony rolls his neck around to crack a few kinks then shrugs his shoulders before squaring them. By the time his eyes slid open, they are razor sharp.

“ _You_ will have to do better than that. Sometimes a dream isn’t just a dream and a sliver of knowledge can mean anything.”

The returning smirk from Loki has Tony’s eyes sparking with excitement. He has yet to lose ground with the Board members at Stark Tech and he won’t back down now.

“How observant of you little one. What will you have of me?”

Ignoring the mocking tone for now, Loki seems amendable with palms open in invitation to Tony’s dare for more. So he tests the water by setting his stipulation high, “Twenty questions. Fully answered and no _‘aye or nay’_ responses. Deal?”

Loki’s riposte is quick to draw even when he shifts backward to lounge against Fenrir once again, “Three questions and no more. Fully embellished to your heart’s content. What say you to that?”

Tony narrows his eyes and redefines the stakes, “Three questions _truthfully_ answered and one promise to help free my friends.”

Taken aback by the addition, Loki perks up and leans forward with his arms folded, “You dare to exact a promise worth far more? Fie, I would not make such a pact for ten such stories. Rest well, Prince-ling. I shall escort you back myself early morning lest you grow more demanding.”

And just like that, the second Prince dismisses him and reverts back lounging against Fenrir with his eyes closed as if to sleep. Tony ignores this of course.

“What if I tell you that it’s not just any old dream but an excerpt of my life? A memory, if you will?”

For a moment there, Tony thought that Loki might have lost interest in his little game but the second Prince eventually opens his eyes and all trace of that playfulness was gone. “Earlier, I was merely curious as to what could cause you to react so. This memory… it haunts you… yet you would willingly divulge its entirety? I am not so cruel as to subject you to relive a moment that pains you still. Let us move pass this, our game has grown too serious for my liking.”

“Hold up, mister! I’m not some weak-knee Omega with the sensitivity level of a cat,” Tony grounds out. If this is his only chance to get Loki to be on his team and free his friends, he’ll talk his ear off about anything. So what if he does a little dream sharing of an event that only two other people know about and one of them is dead? 

“I get that you probably have your reasons for whatever you’re doing and probably spent a long time planning it maybe. But it’s a small price for me to pay if I can convince you to help save my friends. So let’s make a deal,” finishes Tony with resolute confidence in his posture.

Thankfully it didn’t take too long between the overt silence intersperse with the loud crackling of firewood and Loki’s probing gaze for his answer to arrive, “Very well, you have won my curiosity. Do begin when you are ready,” Loki gestures as he settles back with a knee bent in idle comfort.

Elated by Loki's capitulation, Tony throws up both arms in celebration. However reality soon sets in before he could release a whoop for maximum effort. It was one thing to bargain for a cause and now having to deliver it. So he settles in as well and folds one leg to his chest before propping his chin atop a bent knee. His arms loosely wrapped around it as he chose to focus on picking the loose thread on the sleeve of his borrowed shirt than the contents that will spill from his mouth. 

Tony takes a shuddering breath and begins, “We create our own demons. Who said that? What does that even mean? Doesn’t matter, I said it cause he said. So now he was famous and that’s basically get said by two well-known guys. I don’t, uh…I’m gonna start again. In order to understand the impact of my dream, I’ll have to go back a few years to explain how I got to that pivotal moment. Let’s track this from the beginning.”

He pauses for breath and looks at the burning embers of the fire sightless, only seeing the memories from the past.

“I was fourteen when I got accepted to M.I.T. (it’s a top tier university for science and stuff). Anyways, I thought my dad would be happy since I figured, the sooner I finish college the sooner I can be ready to take over the family business when I turn eighteen. Let’s say he wasn’t too happy about the news, sent me away with a handful of bodyguards and barred me to go to any frat party or socialize at all. As it turned out, it wasn’t too hard to do. Nobody wanted to hang out with a young genius billionaire trust fund Omega anyways. And then I met Zeke and Rhodey, both four years older. They were my lab partners. Rhodey is cool for a Beta, he was there on full scholarship and hadn’t care jack shit about whom I was or where I came from. Still doesn’t. As for Zeke, he was cool too. He was the first Alpha I met that hadn’t talk down to me. He even listened to my ideas and helped me build DUM-E and U (they’re robots fitted with a basic artificial intelligence algorithm). I still have them in my workshop back home. They get into all sorts of trouble. I threaten to donate them a lot.”

Not wanting to feel the onset rush of homesickness, Tony tore his gaze from the fire and begin doodling random equations on the ashes scattered about the fire pit. His thoughts once again cast afar.

“So ah…I found out Zeke built his own fancier version and took credit for my designs, but I hadn’t mind. Well, not much. As long as the ideas are out there, you know? Later, dad found out that I was hanging out with an Alpha and told me he was going to send me to S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy instead. I was furious! Flew home the first chance school was on summer break and followed him to Afghanistan on his business trip. Mom tagged along to help smooth things over I guess. She tried her best. She really did.”

Tony pauses again, trying his best to will the tears away. 

“It was on our way back that our convoy got attacked… I woke up in a hospital with a hole in my chest and a battery pack strapped to my waist. Dr. Yinsen said that I was lucky. Told me that I was out for several days and that my guardian, Obadiah Stane, paid my ransom and got me to a hospital.”

Fat droplets fell like rain and blur his equations.

“I was told that my mom and dad hadn’t made it. That good ol’ Obie was going to take care of me and handle all the funeral arrangements.”

Angry at the break in his voice, Tony wipes furiously at his cheeks with his sleeve. Sniffling away the remainder and hating the futility of tears.

“At the funeral service, I saw Zeke again. It turns out Zeke is Obie’s son. I should have figured out what they were up to, but at the time I was too busy being angry at everything and everyone. Kept mostly to myself and build things as an outlet.” 

He places a palm over his chest and continues, “I built this mini arc reactor both as a reminder of my father’s legacy and that I’m better than him. I made what he couldn’t build when he was alive. I also made the mistake of oversharing with Zeke. He proposed to me right before the meeting with my dad’s lawyers. I told him I’ll think about it. I was fifteen at the time.”

“I hadn’t found out until then that I had a fiancé and that my dad named Steve Rogers (a war hero whom everyone thought died decades ago) as his executor of estate and my legal guardian. Obie said that it was a mistake. That the will was an old one, but the lawyers insisted that it was the latest version. Even I was stunned. It hadn’t really changed anything though; Obie continued to assume the role as my guardian until the lawyers could locate the missing war hero. Obie convinced me that my dad was being optimistic to leave him in the will. You see, dad had always been obsessed with finding his friend. In the meantime, Obie tried to convince me to accept Zeke’s offer of marriage instead of waiting on a mysterious fiancé who hadn’t bothered to show up to my parent’s funeral. In the end, I turned Zeke down.”

“I hadn't know why my dad did what he did. All those strange lessons he made me take, all those rules he stifled me with. I felt untethered, like a weight had been lifted, you know? So I went back to M.I.T. a free man. Instead of a handful of bodyguards, I had one who chose to stay with me because he cared. Let me tell ya, I was a snot-nose brat that whole time, but he stayed… It hadn’t taken long before the rumors started spreading that I was a playboy who would sleep with any Alpha. Utter nonsense of course, but the tabloids ate that shit up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Partly my fault I hadn’t done anything to stop it, been a recluse the whole time building my first Iron Man armor. I was obsessed with revenge. It wasn’t until I took a test run in Gulmira to stop the Ten Rings (the same terrorist group who killed my parents by the way) did S.H.I.E.L.D. come knocking with Steve Rogers as the battering ram. I shut the door in his face, of course. That asshole was alive this whole time and only showed up when I got a weapon of mass destruction in my hands. Then Obie came knocking too. I _wished_ I had shut the door _on_ his face. But I was stupid and naïve. The fucker paralyzed me with my own designs that I shared with his son and took out my arc reactor right in front of me. He didn’t even have the courtesy to kill me outright but left me gasping like a fish out of water, waiting for my heart to give out.”

Then the first time since he started the whole tale, he looks directly at Loki. Though his posture is relaxed, Tony has his rapt attention.

“So there you have it. The story of my messed up life in a nutshell. I’m no docile Prince from a fairy tale kingdom, just a privilege mechanic who loves making things and blow stuff up.”

“And what happened to this Obie, may I ask?”

Having been caught unaware by the sudden switch to conversation mode and not realizing his filters were all down, Tony replies bluntly, “He blew up spectacularly, of course. Lit up the whole night sky and everything.”

It felt good, better than a session with his therapist. Maybe he should have shared it with her a long time ago. But that’s not important at the moment. Once the words were out of his mouth, there was no take backs. Tony fidgets a bit from Loki’s continuous stare before he switches to a more defensive position by folding both his legs up and hugs them to his chest.

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t regret it one bit. So are you going to tell Thor that he’s marrying a murderer?”


	23. Recusant Omega, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for another two part breakdown, otherwise it'll probably be another three weeks before I post. The second half will definitely clear some things for Tony and the readers hopefully. As always, I'll return to edit when I find time. Until then, please enjoy!

Tony didn’t know what possessed him to confess to Loki of all people. It’s not like he was ashamed of what he’s done. Even Steve said he did the right thing. Although, funny how doing the right thing doesn’t equate to sleeping better at night. Especially after finding out that he’d been the means for Obie to sell Stark weapons behind his back to terrorist groups like the Ten Rings. He may not have pulled the trigger but thousands of innocent lives were gone due to his negligence. So if Thor will have a problem sleeping next to a murderer, he might as well know now. 

Again, it goes to show just how wrong his assumptions could be upon hearing Loki’s flippant response, “There are reasons why mankind used to worship my kin. Make no mistake, Asgardians are a bloodthirsty lot and my brother is no different. Tell him if you wish. The oaf will welcome your disclosure and your estimation may rise within the ranks of his pack mates.”

That should have been expected. Asgardians are essentially space Vikings after all. Though strangely, or perhaps not so strange, he feels off-kilter by the underlying sentiment. Not of Thor’s prospective approval, but the obvious dislike Loki has for his own warrior culture and probably Tony by extension. His earlier confession must seem like a boast to Loki.

Not wanting to be even more depressed with that line of thought, Tony unfurls his limbs to scooch back from the fire. He’s beyond warm and toasty at this point but much closer to burnt and crispy, which reminds him. After refolding the hem of his borrowed leather pants, with stiff limbs he pushes himself up before remembering (thankfully not too late) to hold on to the loose waistband. Though he laced them as tight as he could, Tony isn’t taking any chances; nothing like dropping trou to make things more awkward. His imagination certainly didn’t need the instantaneous triple x pop-up ad either. He could use a break and might as well buy some time to think about their second half Q&A.

“Where are you going?”

“Water break and I kind of forgot about my uniform,” he answers the simple enough question while continuing down the path barefoot. As a result he may have gasped when Loki appears so suddenly to restrain an arm that wasn’t holding up his pants. In doing so, caused the wide neck of his shirt to slip down a shoulder and expose most of the arc reactor. Neither went unnoticed.

“You imbecile! The wards are activated so no one for miles can see or scent the sanctuary. But all my work is for naught since you were stupid enough to leave your scent heavy belongings outside the perimeter.”

Loki’s grip was taut, though surprisingly non-bruising. This action and his subsequent belittling reprimand was so wholly unexpected, it takes Tony a few seconds to get over his initial shock before he takes a step closer to face the fuming Prince. He replies heatedly in kind, “I don’t understand the crazy that is coming out of your mouth, but what I did get is that you’re blaming _me_ for leaving my clothes out by the water. Hello, I was drugged after my polar bear plunge, what’s _your_ excuse for skimping out on patrol?”

Even with the fire behind them, green orbs seem to glow, reflecting angry pinwheels of blue while royal nostrils flare in exasperation. Loki takes a single controlled breath in and out through his nose as he looms over Tony. Using his height to full advantage, the second Prince bit out his initial words with enunciated care, “I had not _skimp_ out _as you say_. _I_ was preoccupied in making a tincture to cure your paralysis then later the stew you gobbled.”

Not intimidated in the least by the Alpha’s bluster, in fact, far from it, Tony stands up on his tippy toes and closes the gap to an inch or two between them before he bit out each word as well, “which I am thankful for.”

Neither was backing down. Tony glares right back into those seething orbs until Loki’s face precipitously goes blank and he sneers with quiet resolution, “Tis still your fault that we are to be discovered. Stay put, while I retrieve your things anon and pray that we are not yet surrounded.”

And Loki was off upon releasing Tony to brush pass him, leaving what felt like a cold brand on the Omega’s biceps. He bristles at the remainder prickling sensation on his overheated skin then curses with indignation upon recalling what was said, “Ugh, the nerve of that condescending bi-polar Sasquatch!”

Hearing a high pitch whine from their audience stops Tony up short; he turns his seething ire at the lounging Fenrir only to be creep out by a weird wheezing sound the wolf was making as he thump his front paw on the ground with each exhale. If the young Omega didn’t know any better, that looks awfully like he’s being laughed at. Being still wary of the wolf, it was the only reason keeping Tony from mouthing off at Fenrir too when the first clang of metal on metal reaches his ears. 

All consideration (if any) of Loki’s warning flew out the window. Tony dashes down the path, too reckless for his own good. Then his curiosity soon morphs into panic upon hearing the inhuman snarl of whatever Loki is fighting. The sound sends chill up and down his spine. Preparing for the worse, he reaches to activate his gauntlet but then remembers belatedly he’d temporarily store them in his uniform for safekeeping. He should have grabbed them after his bath but at the time, his immediate concern was hypothermia. It couldn’t be helped, so he slows down to a halt upon reaching the opening then takes a moment to catch his breath and assess the situation.

There, beyond the brook and his rifled belongings, upon a wide open grass field disturbed by fallen rocks and crushed trees, was Loki in Captain T’Pol’s form (how shapeshifting can include armor, clothes and weaponry, Tony would like to know) was fending off a single elf who’s bare from the waist up, caked in dried blood and mud. Where girl-type Loki’s parry are sure and effective, her opponent is wild and erratic. The elegant duel scimitars might as well be blunt instruments with the way their attacker is wielding them.

Then it dawns on him. Tony should have recognized Huilomë sooner but that feral creature hacking at Loki’s Yin counterpart can’t possibly be the same person. Gone was the regal taciturn bearing of an aristocrat. As if someone had toss a hornet’s nest at the elf and he’s been running in the woods for hours.

Oh!

It didn’t take a genius to deduce from there. Valto is nowhere to be seen. And since no one knows beside Tony and the wolf pack that T’Pol is Loki in disguise, Tony can understand why Huilomë would attack first considering how suspicious the Ljosalfar had been towards the dark elves.

Fed up with it all, Tony steps out on the clearing to intervene when he hears a voice spoke up from behind, “I would not go out there if I were you.”

Thankfully Tony had plenty of practice for the day to be mildly affected and definitely getting really tired of people sneaking up on him. He swirls around and sees that it’s Ferrin, otherwise known as Fenrir. Tony couldn’t believe he’d actually forgotten about that in light of all things Loki. How the conservation of mass even work for these two (or four considering if the cubs has the same skills) he would really like to know as well. But for now, the voice emitted was rough to the ears as if the vocal chords were hardly used. Tony didn’t know what to make of his sudden appearance. 

“I didn’t know you could talk. You’re some kind of werewolf, right? Or are you a shifter like Loki?”

“Neither,” says the wolf in grungy teenage clothing. The human shape Fenrir is crouched down on all fours and doesn’t take his eyes off the fight or elaborate further. Instead, he adds to his warning, “You should not be here.”

Tony’s disbelief won over his restraint around the not-werewolf. And so, he rebuts with, “Instead of charging in like a typical Alpha, Loki should try, you know, talking, maybe? Say, something along the line of _‘we have a plan’_?”

Then, as cliché as it was, time seem to have slow down. Bearing in mind how much details Tony was able to squeeze out in the next minute; it has to be the only explanation. Thus, several things happen simultaneously. Tony felt the shiver course down his spine way before Huilomë’s animalistic growl stops reverberating. He swings his head midway just in time to catch Lady Loki's only weapon sent flying in an overhead arc as she was knocked down to the ground. The light elf on the other hand abruptly changes course and now coming towards Tony, swords and all. As in charging at full speed, do not pass GO and straight to JAIL fast.

Suffice to say, his eyes are as wide as saucers which explains the heightened sensory acuity to account for the dazzling gold he caught sparkling at his peripheral. He should really move out of the way but the light show sends Tony’s attention to dance back in reflex to witness Fenrir in the middle of transforming into his wolf form. And what a sight it was, complete with size expansion, contortionist bone popping, fur sprouting _‘Werewolf in London’_ cinematic wonder of it all. But that wasn’t the source of the glitter bomb. Right before his very eyes, Loki, the male version smelling overwhelmingly of fresh pine in crisp winter, materializes beside him like a freaking holographic 3D projector.

He should be fascinated, freaking out, or running away even. Yet, Tony feels none of these things. Unlike the fiery burning sensation that course through his system upon drinking the contaminated water earlier, the calming scent blankets his body and lulls him to sleep. Tony would’ve rolled his eyes if they weren’t already doing that for a whole other reason. At least the landing was soft is his final thought before he passes out. Again.

* * *

He slept like a baby.

And woke up springing like a coil with a shriek lodge in his throat due to a timely, well-place, previously acquainted green sleeve. Tony didn’t even think to struggle when he felt the chill presence along his back. Even though there was a tangible gap between them, Tony couldn’t help but breathe in that clean Alpine scent once again and felt compel to snuggle against something. Or someone a part of his psyche happily chimes in. The implication of that and their questionable sleeping arrangement has him reeling with mortification as heat suffuse his cheeks and down pass his neck.

“We shall have none of that,” Whispers Loki very close to his ear. Tony doubts they’re thinking the same thing judging by the other’s tone, “Refrain your exuberance till we are away from the glade lest you choose to ignore my warning once again.”

The underlying threat was clear. Tony gulps and shakes his head vigorously in compliance.

“Good. Now be still while I extract us from their slumbering forms.”

Loki removes his hand, then his body. A part of him mourns for the lost. Pushing that traitorous thought aside, Tony felt the heavy weight of a few baby wolf limbs lifted off his abdomen and legs before he’s hefted none too gently on his feet and of course, his pant starts slipping. Scrambling frantically for purchase with the blowsy shirt in the way, Tony manages to catch the waistband before it dips pass his butt. He releases a breath in relief before darting a glance at Loki, thankfully whose too busy collecting certain items to notice his dishevel appearance.

And how in the world does the second Prince look so put together upon waking, Tony would like to add that to the growing list of questions. In contrast, there’s nothing attractive about his wrinkled clothes, bed head, bad breath and—he glances briefly at the wolf pile—smelling like dogs.

Then his eyes went up to his hairline. There, between Fenrir’s large paw and the mossy ground, is Huilomë looking paler than Loki, which is quite an achievement.

“Is he dead? Please don’t tell me Fenrir’s planning to eat him for breakfast?” Whispers Tony in earnest. Though he was only half joking, it certainly was a possibility with that one.

“Nay, light elves upset his stomach he’s found.”

Tony’s jaw drop at Loki’s matter-of-fact answer and swirls around to catch the amuse smirk before it disappear. He did rolled his eyes then, which promptly reminds him of last night. What in the world happened?

Though he’s pretty sure those words weren’t spoken aloud, Loki addresses it, “Come, we have much to discuss and a reckoning to be had.”

On second thought, that soundbite has too much of an ominous overtone to be anything but good.

“Why don’t we have breakfast first? It’s the most important meal of the day for Midgardians. Nothing like a gallon of caffeine and hog load of artery clogging food to get the day started…” rambles Tony to a halt when he notice the definitely not amuse look on Loki this time. He then mumbles lamely, “Um, yeah okay.”


	24. Recusant Omega, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I may have gone mad writing this chapter. If nothing makes sense, please be gentle and I shall return to fix what I can. Thank you.
> 
> See: “Sigh Not So” Chapter 1-4 for Steve’s POV. Although, you do not need to read the companion piece to follow this story, it’ll certain help.

Loki acknowledges his capitulation with a nod then dismisses Tony altogether. With a large knapsack in hand, the Prince goes to calm Ofrid who’s already awake and stamping his foreleg in a restless manner. Fenrir soon raise his head and glance about with an eye half-lidded before promptly going back to sleep. Afterward without so much a by-your-leave to Tony, the Prince leads the horse in the direction of the brook. Often enough, Loki insists that he’s a self-reliant Alpha who doesn’t care about the trappings of royalty or a pack for that matter (and no, pets don’t count), it was gestures like that and the frequent overbearing attitude which suggests otherwise. Tony shakes his head, sends a passing glance to the large wolf pile plus elf and follows at a sedate pace. 

Which turns out to be a huge mistake (or a very smart one depending how one looks at it). Loki had taken the opportunity to bathe before deciding to scare the bejesus out of Tony with that stunt. So that midnight hair is still damp and the loose green tunic he wore clung at all the right places. Brown eyes dares to dip lower and the Omega bit his lip to curtail the urge to wolf whistle. He hadn’t realized how wiry and trim the second Prince is compare to Thor. Though Loki may not have the absurdly broad chest or Hulk-like muscles, Tony can’t say he’s lacking either. Although he shouldn’t be ogling his soon-to-be brother-in-law like this, he couldn’t pry his eyes from the sight.

Ah, geez! He’s turning into Fandral.

Tony flinches at the thought and drags his eyes to look elsewhere when he notice that they've reached the brook. The horse was already by the bank drinking his fill. And across, a fine mist lingers like smog across the valley while the hazy glow of the rising sun is obscured by the cumulous sky above. Tony could feel the hair on his neck and arms rise with the brisk morning air that hung like dew drops atop the vegetation, refusing to dissipate. Only the occasional clomp of hooves on pebbled rocks interrupts the continuous backdrop of the babbling brook. Not even the local animal population is awake at such an ungodly hour. Thus as far as locations goes, this was as private as it gets despite the open atmosphere. Why the change in venue remains to be seen unless Loki chose the convenience of it all for Ofrid’s sake. Tony doubts that to be the case. One things for sure, his gears are missing.

Having seen to his horse, Loki turns his full attention back to Tony, surprisingly with an apologetic grin when he proffers the knapsack he’s been holding. 

“I have taken the liberty to rid your belongings of the river troll’s scent and would take back my admonishment of you last night. If not for your blunder, Lord Huilomë would not have been able to find his way to us.”

He’s grateful, sure. However, it has long been understood by many that Tony Stark can’t simply take an apology without putting his foot in it, thus the following jumble of verbiage spills forth from his mouth. Although, he is self-conscious enough of his breath to cover it (discretely of course) when he spoke, “Wow! I don’t know whether to be proud or insulted. And since when Huilomë's a lord? Honestly, no one tells me these things. Also, are all elves secretly part bloodhound? Because, what the fuck? I mean, who does that—” 

Tony tapers off upon noticing the bemused expression on Loki’s face. Not sure what he said warrants that, he decides to wrap it up by saying something he should have expressed from the beginning, “Ahem, anyway…thanks for the laundry service.”

With that look still in place, Loki nods back in deference (although very slowly) then he pointedly looks at both of Tony’s hands and their inaction. The trickster ventures a guess with a quirk of his lips, “Is this another occasion where I put it down and you take it from there? Shall I turn around as well so you may dress?”

Of course Loki doesn’t wait for Tony’s confirmation but pulls out a coarse looking brush from the sack then walks over to Ofrid. 

It has long been an idiosyncrasy of his ever since he can remember and normally, Tony would act nonchalant towards other people’s reaction. After all, it was easier to be perceived as an annoying eccentric prick or a germaphobe than be ridiculed for it. So it was refreshing to find the trickster doing neither.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth or as the case may be, the Prince brushing his horse down with his back turned, Tony crouches down to fish out his uniform. The items were still warm and smell like sunshine and wood smoke. How Loki managed that is a mystery considering the sun’s rays hasn’t even touch the valley. It was another question added to the already heaping pile.

He couldn’t help the genuine smile that graced his lips as he straightens up and drops his hold on the waistband, doing his best not to overthink the situation too much and imagines a S.H.I.E.L.D locker room scenario. Though, he did keep an eye out on Loki’s backside for different reasons this time. He made quick work of fastening up his cargo pants before shrugging off the pirate shirt and donning his fitted blue tee and jacket. Warmer and feeling less bedraggled, Tony takes a quick inventory of all his pockets, hidden or otherwise, before he pulls out a stick of mint gum and begins chewing. Next, he pulls out a small pack of wipes and does a quick and dirty scrub down of his face, neck and beneath his clothes. As far as morning hygiene goes, it wasn’t ideal but he rather do that than skinny dip in ice water any day, especially not while Loki is around.

Quick to distance himself from such thoughts, Tony spits the gum on the wrapper and pockets it before going behind a bush to relieve himself. He uses the last of his wipes to clean up before returning back to the sack and grab his socks and boots. By the time he shuffles atop a flat boulder that was sheared in half horizontally (although Tony could have sworn it was still round the day before), Loki returns with his brush in hand and drops it back into the sack. He just finished lacing up his boots when Loki busts out the unmentionable.

“I would hear more of this arc reactor of yours.”

His good mood deflates just like that. It took more than a few seconds but Tony manages to sputter up a response, “Whoa there! When I thought you said we need to _discuss_ things, I didn’t think you’d go for the jugular. Is this the _reckoning_ you’re talking about? Somehow I assume there would be more insults and yelling involved even though you did sort of apologize.”

Seeming to be utterly unimpressed, Loki folds his arm across his chest before mimicking one of Tony’s favorite bad habits and rolls his eyes, “Be assured we will come to that. In spite of the outcome, your blatant disregard for authority clearly demonstrates your lack of self-preservation. How you manage to remain alive until now must be due to sheer dumb luck. Shall I go on?”

Those words actually had bite. Tony is quick to object, “Hey now, I thought you said later on the insults?”

“I have not even begun to start on that.”

Maybe it’s more insult than banter, or maybe this is Loki finally losing patience with him. Either way, Tony doesn’t like it and moves to get off the boulder.

“Fuck that shit! I don’t need to sit here and take this from you.”

He had just brush pass Loki when the trickster spoke again without bothering to turn around, “Perhaps not, though how you plan to save the rest of your friends without my cooperation I should like to know. Do they mean so little to you? Or is your pride more important?”

Arrested in his movements, Tony sucks in a breath and with clenched fists swiftly turns around with glassy eyes, “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

The Prince turns to face Tony as well and uncrosses his arms upon seeing the hurt expression on the Omega’s face. He shortens the distance between them to an arms length. Emerald green hardens for just a second before they soften, as did his words, “I seldom do.”

It shouldn’t be so easy to get lost in those orbs. What Loki had said was no consolation, but that tone says otherwise. Tony didn’t know whether he should be reading more into it than the surface layer. Mentally side-stepping the confusion for now, he tries to salvage some semblance of friendship. It didn’t occur to him to step back and put some distance between them.

Tony aim for sass and got sarcasm, “So what changed your tune? If I didn’t know any better, I think you _want_ me to help you. Tell me, why should I answer any of your questions when you owe me answers from last night?”

Despite how rude he sounded, Tony got his objective through since Loki displays an actual smile that even showcase a dimple or two. Even though what pass the trickster’s lips was not so adorable, “For a self-professed genius, you do not seem too bright.”

“Fuck you,” said Tony with a smirk. Of course he hadn’t meant literally.

Loki took it there all the same when he leers back in return, “I doubt Thor would approve your proposition. Are all Midgardians this forward?”

Tony looks askance before he peers up through his lashes and replies cheekily, “Yes.”

When Loki had no ready comeback to that, especially with that gobsmacked look in place, Tony almost burst out laughing outright but he settles for a quick admission instead, “Okay, not really.”

Whether in exasperation or disapproval, Loki shakes his head then props both hands on his waist, “The time for negotiations are over. I have the leverage on the knowledge you seek. Cooperate and I may consider you an ally. Do not and continue to hinder my plans, then you shall find not even Thor can protect you from my wrath.”

Despite the ominous overtone again, Tony folds his arms and chose not to take it to heart, “I thought you like me?”

And it was kind of Loki to quickly reassure him with a twist of his lips, “I do. Why else would I warn you beforehand?”

Tony didn’t get the logic at all, but whatever, and said as much, “You have a strange definition of friendship, you know that?”

As expected, Loki has a comeback for that, “So says the person who has been manipulating me from the start.”

Tony throws up his hands and tries to look affronted, “Have not!”

“Shall we devolve to a petty squabble between your words against mine?” Then proving Tony correct in assessing Loki’s behavior, the Prince dials the mood from easy going to somber, “Answer my question so that we may move beyond this glade. I grow weary of our inaction.”

Even though Loki did have a point, Tony is still getting use to the mental whiplash from all the mood swings.

“Sheesh, and you call _me_ demanding. But I get the urgency even though you’re hard to read most time. I’m guessing Huilomë factors in this somehow? Since you are willing to share, I can be good.”

Loki makes a show of breathing in and out before replying airily, “Perhaps when you have demonstrated your ability to listen and obey, we shall see.”

Tony fakes a flinch, “Ouch. You’re the worse.”

“Define worse?”

He couldn’t help but return the same shit-eating grin, “Can I take a rain check? I promise to be very thorough.”

“If by rain check you mean later, then aye. We have dallied too long. You are most adept in the arts of derailment.”

It was too true. Tony hadn’t forgotten about Loki’s topic du jour. It just wasn’t a subject he wanted to discuss, period. So he goes for a last ditch effort, “Is that an actual compliment?”

“Anthony.”

“Huh.”

It shouldn’t mean anything. Honestly, Tony heard his given name used constantly while in Alfheim. It had no affect on him beyond how formal it sounds. However, he could count on one hand how often Loki has said it in that rich tenor of his. Best not to think about that too closely.

“Um, I don’t really know what my arc reactor has to do with your plans but I’ll assume you’re reassessing your assets from your liabilities? Okay, I’ll bite. Long story short, I've got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart.”

Then he points at the mini arc reactor on his chest, “This stops it. This little circle of light. Its part of me now, not just my Iron Man armor. It's a... terrible privilege.”

The expression on Loki is contemplative at best until his words gave Tony another shock, “I see. How long will you live were it to be removed?”

“What the heck! What kind of question is that?”

Loki is adamant though, “How long?”

Though wary of what this information would be used for, Tony decides to give Loki the benefit of the doubt, “Five…maybe ten minutes tops.”

“Hmm…”

Like that didn’t sound suspicious at all.

“I have a theory.”

And that non-sequitur definitely warrants Tony to remind himself to be patient. Although Loki is the one to talk in accusing him of dragging things out. The Prince is equally culpable of doing so, but with a dramatic flair.

Tony suffers through the inflated pause as Loki strikes the thinking man pose while standing upright, “I believe tis best to start from the beginning. Roughly a fortnight ago, Thor sought my immediate counsel upon his return from Ports Mouth. After entertaining me with the tale of his blunder against you, I gave him my advice. However, in light of what I know now, I may have been mistaken. Your reaction when provoke was extreme to say the least.”

To say he is perplexed by the direction of their topic is putting it mildly.

“Allow me to continue. Long after the All-Father’s embargo of Midgard was put in place, Thor and I as well as his current pack mates would sneak onto your realm to have our… adventures, if you will, thrice prior to our rite of passage ceremony and once after. Thus we made quite a few encounters with your primitive—”

“Hey!”

“—ancestors. Suffice to say, your reaction to the release of an Alpha’s scent from outside your realm is wholly unexpected.”

Even though this was the conversation he’s been hounding Tanna for the first week, it seem so foreign to be discussing it all of a sudden.

“I don’t understand. What reaction? I mean, back home a minority of the population claim to be olfactory hypersensitive. But the majority of us don’t go out of our way sniffing things and avoiding all skin contact. There’s been studies done of course on sensitivity and attraction base on scent, but I sniffed a few sample Alpha colognes myself. Beyond smelling nice for some and downright atrocious with others, I had no allergic reaction if that is what you’re implying?”

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose before moving to occupy the flat boulder Tony vacated earlier. The Prince braces a forearm over his thigh before explaining, “Tis not. Though you have inadvertently proven my point. Permit me to enlighten you by asking: What has been your reaction to Thor’s scent? Or his pack mates for that matter? What of the Alpha troll you encountered at the tavern? Or the one who grabbed you at the ambush? And lastly, what of my scent from last night?”

After a moment of gathering his thoughts, Tony voices his own findings while pacing of course. He does his best thinking that way.

“I see where you’re going with this. If I were to plot them on the reaction scale, a buzz on the low end and fainting on the high. But how would you explain my two different reaction to the same troll?”

There was a flicker of something in Loki’s eyes before he addresses Tony, “I believe tis something foreign in your body that is hampering your natural response and perhaps overcompensating for it.”

It didn’t take much for him to connect the dots from there. He’s never consider the thing that is saving his life is also the cause of his recent fainting spells. Astonished by the notion, Tony couldn’t contain his skepticism, “I’ve vetted the chances of Palladium poisoning myself when I chose the materials for the arc reactor. I even went so far as to let S.H.I.E.L.D. near it before I joined the academy. They agreed, beyond a small trace, it’s not lethal—”

Oh.

Tony felt so stupid. It goes to show that he has to encounter alien Alphas that upset his homeostasis in order to see the answer was right there. What he really wants to know as his anger begin to seethe and boil, if S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about the suppression of his heat and why.

Loki is sensible enough to remain silent as Tony resolves to deal with it later. Though his anger is still at the surface, they have more pressing matters now that he knows what angle the trickster is driving at.

“I got it. Stay away from Alphas until I figure another solution for my heart. What’s next on your list of delightful topics to discuss? I’m just dying to know.”

His sarcasm duly noted, Loki wisely moves on, “Lord Huilomë. His frantic hunt for his Betroth has induced similar effects as a rite of passage. I fear that his newly discovered Alpha instincts may be too much for him without an Omega to sate it.”

Oh.

Tony didn’t need to receive Loki’s pointed look to hear the _‘I told you so’_ loud and clear. Fuck. It wasn’t his fault. If only these aliens were more forthcoming with their culture and their weird ass practices. It was just his luck that he’s stuck in an episode of Star Trek with an Elvin version of pon farr. Then his mind just had to go there.

“Shit. Don’t tell me—is that why he’s so pale? Did you—oh—did Fenrir?”

Puzzled at first, Loki slowly nods in confirmation, “Aye, tis the only way to break the Berserker’s spell. His submission must be complete. Thus your presence was a hindrance lest you wish to withdraw your acceptance of Thor.”

For his own self-preservation and peace of mind, Tony tries not to follow that submission picture down the gutter. He hopes it means something else entirely otherwise the picture of what the trio had been doing while he was unconscious would probably cause a massive Japanese hentai style nosebleed to occur.

He went with the safer question, “So is he okay now?”

“Aye, however tis best if you stay near Fenrir’s brood. Their scent on you will continue to ward off Lord Huilomë for now.”

“Got it. Stay away from the Alpha-in-training. You know what, I sense a theme here. Anything else you want to caution me on or are we good to make rescue plans?”

Loki shakes his head in negation before making his own last pitch for Tony to back out, “Nay. Although I applaud your enthusiasm to run towards danger, we are outnumbered. There are too many unknowns and our allies are few and far between. Tis not a coincidence that an ambush happened upon us. My surveillance indicates a traitor amongst your companions. How well do you know of these so-called friends of yours? Would you stake your life for those who has betrayed yours?”

Rather than scaring him off however, the other’s concerns merely whet Tony’s appetite to accept the challenge.

“Don’t short-sell our team up just yet, Loki. I’m a certifiable genius and you’re a thousand year old trickster. Also, I think you and I both know that your brother and his pack won’t be too far behind for an adventure like this. And besides, we have the element of surprise.”

His excitement must be palpable since Loki had risen and seem to gravitate towards him with each word he uttered. “How so?” 

Since he'd always wanted to do this, with more cheek than necessary, Tony delivers his best zinger yet, “Because Captain America is coming to Alfheim and all those who chose to oppose his shield must yield.”


	25. Red Herring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I confess, I am a very slow writer with a penchant for rewriting my craft to the point of madness. Yet, I still manage to make so much grammatical errors. My apologies and I hope the story makes up for it. As for the pace, I had intended for things to progress much further but alas this chapter happened. However I do promise the next chapter will be of a different setting and I don’t just mean that it will feature Thor and Steve.
> 
> Also, for the sake of this story, mystical wolves can eat anything and has cast-iron stomachs.
> 
> Again not betaed and most likely will be revisited for corrections. Thank you and please enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> See: “Sigh Not So” Chapter 5 for next update from Steve’s POV. Although, you do not need to read the companion piece to follow this story, it’ll certain help.

Tony’s zinger doesn’t stand a chance against one sharp rise of Loki’s brow. The joke simply deflates and blew right over the alien’s head. To showcase the depths of his disappointment, Tony visibly droop his shoulders and releases the largest sigh known to mankind before effecting a singsong explanation, “Who’s he you might ask? Why, Captain America is the title given to my kickass Uncle Steve who leads the equally kickass pack of Earth’s mightiest heroes called the Avengers. And three of them already got the okay from the All-daddy to visit.”

With lips twitching, Loki comments rather dryly, “To attend your wedding ceremony, no doubt.”

“Yup,” supplied Tony with a hard pop of the ‘p’ as he folds his hands behind his back to rock back and forth on his heels before blurting out with an impish grin, “Ambassador Larien was to personally escort them and that’s three days ago.”

“While Thor is due back any day now,” murmurs Loki while raising a hand up to his chin and proceed to rub an index finger on his bottom lip, over and over and over again. The hypnotic motion was distracting and doesn’t bring to attention another body part juxtaposed to it at all, no siree. As it were for however long, Loki was deep in thought when he abruptly focuses his attention on the suddenly wide-eyed teenager.

“Very well, I shall sate your curiosity and divulge what led to our current predicament. Know this, tis not something I share lightly for this task is bound to _my_ Uncle.”

“Oh?” Replied Tony airily, who hoped beyond hope that there aren’t any noticeable coloring of his ears despite the warmth he felt there. He quickly comes up with a diversion, “Can you repeat that? I wasn’t sure I heard you right. Did you say: I’ll stop being a jerk wad and finally share with the class?”

And immediately regrets his snappy comeback. Any willingness to cooperate fell through with Loki’s blank stare. The silence that came after was too long and awkward to classify a pause. Then piercing green eyes reduce to slits when the Alpha leans forward.

Tony gulps and stops short of taking a step back in reflex just as the trickster starts his tale he once threatened Tony with, “Once upon a time, a handsome Prince finds himself parting from the golden realm of Asgard to seek out the lost paths once carved by Yggdrasil. He adventured near and far until one day, after growing weary from his travels he reached the merry Halls of Gimlé.”

Tony’s jaw dropped.

“His Uncle welcomed him with opened arms and granted the young Prince his unstinting hospitality. As days turned to years, he wined and dined, sampling all that Alfheim had to offer. Meanwhile beneath the peaceful layer, the land was in utter turmoil.”

As much as this was designed to offend, Tony was far from being appalled. In fact, quite the opposite, though he did school his face to look more annoyed.

“For you see, there are two rulers on Alfheim: trade and diplomacy governed by King Frey; caretaker of the realm by Queen Aelsa. How this came to be tis a tale for another day. Suffice it to say, that prior to the All-father’s edict long ago, the elf queen had long express no interest in building relations with her neighbors. Her championing of the wild splendor of her kingdom was infamous for its savagery. Nonetheless, King Frey was sought to broker peace and to lay the foundations for what Alfheim has now become. He remains since though his heart resides in Jotenheim with his beloved Gerd.”

“As for the arrangement, it may seem fair on the surface, many perceived it uneven. Proven all the more invasive when it herald changes the light elves were not prepared for. More than a few resented opening the doors to the realm and handing the key to one not of their own.”

“However beleaguered King Frey was, not once did he relay his grief for any to bear. Alas, until one fateful day, the young Prince stumbled upon a crime so horrid tis not for the tender ears of this fair audience—” Tony rolled his eyes at that, “that he realized the plight his Uncle was facing each day. Unable to withstand such injustice, the brave Prince swore to aid the King in fulfilling his oath to the All-father so that he may one day return to his beloved. And thus concludes our tale of how the gallant Prince becomes the King’s champion.”

Loki’s retaliation was incorrigible and yet Tony found himself teasing back for the engaging performance, “If this Agent of Alfheim thing doesn’t work out, storytelling should be bumped to the top of your resume. So what’s your mission objective? It can’t be just escorting me otherwise we would head back to Gimlé by now.”

With eyes alight with mischief still, Loki half shrugs and query in return, “What do you know of Alfheim’s troubles?”

There was only one answer to that but the response would be too short, so Tony went with, “Funny you should ask, since I don’t recall hearing any travel warnings from the State Department or receiving a _Rick Steve’s Pocket Guide to Alfheim_ on my way to the Bifrost. So that will be a resounding: zilch, zero, nada, and a binary double O.”

Loki simply shakes his head and begins to lecture of all things, “I know not of whom or what department you speak but a simple ‘none’ would have sufficed. Given we do not have the time for a lengthy history lesson, in summation: there are shadow factions who labors to undermine my Uncle’s rule until the treaty buckles under the weight of civil unrest.”

While Loki’s intel certainly helped clear up some things, it also blare a big giant neon sign over their current predicament. Tony takes a moment to wrap his head around the political climate before he wonders out loud, “Let me guess, these groups don’t really want to put Queen Aelsa back in charge once they oust King Frey. Instead, they want to put their own aboveboard without the trusted oversight from Asgard, amirite?”

Surprised at first, Loki was all but beaming when he commented, “Very good.”

Even so, Tony preens from the praise though his expression quickly sours when the other added, “We do not know how many were involved, but given the organized display from yesterday, I have my suspects.”

It was all the confirmation Tony needed to connect the dots that led up to here and now. He was bait, plain and simple. Set to lure out the rats hidden amongst the ranks of King Frey’s court. By using his arrival as the perfect smoke screen and pare down the list of suspects. Only, both King Frey and Loki underestimated the oppositions’ numbers and resources.

There were times Tony wished he wasn’t so clever. Regardless of their motive, Tony won’t be deterred. Of all the lessons Steve managed to engrain in him, it was to stay true to who he is. He may not be a perfect son or an ideal SHIELD cadet, but Tony is a good man. And a good man would not let his friends get caught in this tug-a-war and be sold on Alfheim’s black market.

After reminding himself of Loki’s part in this dangerous charade, Tony ideates his game plan on the spot and refocuses his attention on the Alphas who will help him whether they like it or not.

“So what’s the balanced scorecard, Reindeer Games?”

Tony always did like the direct approach. Take a hit and see what falls out.

Loki spared him an off-put glance before scoffing back, “Did I not spoke plainly? We are outnumbered. There are too many unknowns and our allies are few and far between. Prudence dictates we retreat and regroup until reinforcement arrives.”

That was some grade A bullshit. There was nothing plain about that recycled answer. Tony tilts his head, mimicking the other as he tries viewing him figuratively and literally at a different angle. It didn’t work, so he went wide and throw a curveball, “You don’t seem like the type to be dictated by—” Tony raised his fingers to make air quotes before continuing, “—prudence. So I’m going out on a limb here and deduce that Huilomë tossed you a juicy tidbit of info and you’re going to dig up some lead?”

Loki barks out a laugh before remarking, “I do wonder how Thor tolerates your insolence.”

“Still hedging are we?” tries Tony to sound equally posh by using the royal _we_ for emphasis, “Don’t underestimate my genius and the power of family and pack mates. In the meantime, two heads are better than one and I’m running out of proverbs. So cut me in or are you going to turn tail and run, Princess?”

He’d only meant to tease, but something must have struck for Loki to stand stock still one moment before averting his gaze to the ground. Only to have him peer upwards another moment later, predatory and almost wolf-like in sharpness, “A reference page from your own experiences, I am sure.”

“I’m not the one projecting here,” hisses Tony, bristling with a spike of adrenaline and more than confused by the sudden hostility. 

Loki takes his time to insultingly appraise Tony up and down before sneering, “So speaks the fool who runs towards danger.”

“Better than the fool who insists to do this alone,” jeers Tony reddening with more than just anger as guilt eats at his conscious for inadvertently pushing one of Loki’s trigger points. Honestly, the second Prince should come with a warning label. He’s never met anyone more mercurial.

“Borr’s hairy balls! Tis too early to listen to you two bicker like fishmongers.”

So occupied were they that both jumped from the interruption. Disoriented somewhat from the change in focus, Tony felt numb and a bit lost even when Fenrir’s giant maw opened wide to release a high pitched yawn. The wolf licks his chops then scents the air before padding over the same bush Tony used earlier and relieves himself without an ounce of modesty.

Seemingly not the least bothered by that or their earlier argument, Loki’s demeanor has returned more blank than normal. He waits until the wolf finish lapping up water from the brook before he inquires, “Is our guest awake and coherent?”

“Aye,” nods Fenrir after shaking off the excess droplets clinging to his fur. He then sneers with more growl than words, “And demands to speak with the ‘filthy Ranger’ immediately. I can bite off his hand to teach him manners if you wish?”

Loki shakes his head and shape-shifts into Captain T’Pol upon taking one step to another. It happened seamlessly, complete with topknot, armor and weapon as _she_ now walks back into the glade with a slight sway to her hips. It was fascinating to witness especially when moments later Fenrir’s full body distortion as he morphs into a grungy teenage elf makes Tony cringe in sympathy. That promptly reminded him of the events from last night and a new crop of questions move to the forefront of his thoughts as he follows the trail back towards camp. And barely repressed a flinch when Fenrir takes the opportunity to intercept Tony’s path. 

The not-werewolf then comments out of the blue, “He never did like to lose a flyting match even if he hates the title of Silver-tongue.”

“Silver what now?”

Okay, so his priorities need work, but that moniker just screamed for an explanation. Thus, he waits patiently more out of curiosity than anything.

“An unkind title that is more trouble than its worth,” replies the wolf-boy in all seriousness before he stares at eye-level with Tony, “he has killed men for far less.”

Like that wasn’t cryptic and scary as hell. Unfortunately, Fenrir wasn’t done, “Tread carefully, pup. Loki is not one to be crossed.”

And Fenrir too exits stage right, leaving Tony to flounder beneath the tension that lay thicker than the surrounding morning mist.

* * *

Huilomë does not look like a happy camper. In fact, he resembled more of a frat boy who got dumped opted to get hammered then woke up in the ER with severe need of a stomach pump. Yet the dude has the audacity to growl at Tony as if he’s a piece of prime rib for breakfast as soon as he’d step foot in the clearing. The sudden spike in day old body odor has the Omega pinching his nose immediately. If this was the newly minted Alpha’s signature scent, Tony wishes him the best of luck in attracting a mate.

The poor elf was slumped back against a tree trunk and grouses in a much deeper voice than Tony last heard it, “My apologies, I shall try to control this…urge. Though your Omega status is clear to my woken senses, I can scent you have yet presented—”

“Hey!” Tony nasally interjects to vehemently nip the disclosure in the bud, “Keep the details to yourself. No need to advertise. Capisce?”

Huilomë looks even more haggard trying to parse Tony’s words. Loki as T’Pol, who’s crouching by the dying embers, doesn’t even glance at the Omega before casting a lifeline to the elf. 

“Just agree with the human, otherwise he will bleed your ears with utter nonsense.”

“Aye, as you wish,” nods Huilomë at Tony in acquiescence before his feature abruptly scrunches up in disgust, coloring his pale skin a ruddy red. All that loathing directed at center stage.

Tony likes this atmosphere even less. At least earlier, he knew he’d put his foot in his mouth. This, he has no idea how to fix. Hundreds, if not thousands of years of racial prejudice and totally undeserved. Come to think of it, Tony couldn’t fathom why Loki would choose to shape-shift into someone the light elves were bound to hate at first sight. Why keep up the disguise for that matter?

He scans back and forth between the two and caught a signal from Fenrir to keep his mouth shut. Bleakly understanding the byplay, Tony opted to hang out with the wolf cubs. It was safer even if they clamored atop each other for his attention. Somehow he ended settling with a baby wolf on each side of his perch. And kept busy scratching their necks even as the one-sided tension between the two Alphas mounted. At least Huilomë managed to put a lid on that foul stench.

It didn’t take long, the light elf was first to break.

“Release me, witch! King Frey shall have your head on a pike for such treachery.”

For two whole weeks, Tony has interacted with these light elves. Not once has he heard one of them speak with such venom until now. Unconsciously he folded his arms to ward out the shiver itching beneath his skin.

For all intentions and purposes, T’Pol continues tending the embers as if she was immune to the hostility. Only when she began dispersing what she dug up from the ashes into bowls and distributed to Fenrir and placed one before Tony did she respond to the fuming light elf. The third bowl she held out to Huilomë who promptly knocks it from her hand. Two large spotted eggs and a root of some sort smacks on the ground.

Tony shakes his head and busies himself first dusting the ash clean from the half dozen smaller eggs with a handkerchief before he cracks one open and peel the shell off. Upon revealing a droopy head and some wet feathers however, he quickly tossed it away only to have Skoll snatched the bird before it even hit the floor.

Crap! Tony, upon remembering vaguely something about dogs dying from chicken bones, swerves his head to Fenrir who doesn’t seem the least bit worried as he ate his own dead bird. Taking that at face value, Tony slouches back in relieve only to have Hati nudge the bowl and he quickly takes the hint, though his eyes are drawn back to the drama unfolding.

T’Pol takes her time to pick up the fallen items and place them back in the bowl on the ground. Only then did she address the other Alpha rather evenly, “You are not my prisoner and are free to return to your King.”

And she gestures with a wave of her hand towards the exit.

Tony would have thought Huilomë would be scrambling to leave despite looking half dead. His limbs weren’t even tied up for that matter.

“You know I cannot,” rumbles Huilomë. Frustration clearly written on his features.

Tony has a feeling the light elf wasn’t just speaking of his lack of physical energy to leave either.

“So it would seem,” placates T’Pol.

“So it is written,” bit out Huilomë who thankfully elaborates further, “You Dokkars may not honor the sacred rites but do not presume I will discard mine.”

T’Pol brushes off what clearly was a slur on her people as easily has Loki had slip on that skin. To Tony though, it still sounded horrible and makes him angry just hearing it.

This time though, T’Pol pulls out a dagger in response. Everyone stills upon seeing it.

She eyes Huilomë with the same gravity as her words, “Then by all means, kill me now and be branded oath breaker; or honor thy pack and lay this hatred to rest. What say you, Huilomë of the Hidden Vale? Can you place your trust on my vow that I mean Valto no harm?”

Tony holds a breath as the light elf struggles with the decision. For a strangled moment, he thought Loki had gone mad but was finally able to release it in relief as Huilomë slumps back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes as a form of reply. With that much drama in one morning, Tony felt like slumping against something too. He’d just witness something extraordinary it seem. Although, judging by how calmly T’Pol pockets the dagger back to who knows where, made it seem like a walk in the park.

It felt weird afterwards to eat in companionable silence. Tony had given the only remaining food in his bowl a try. With the skin peeled off, the purple root tasted like a potato had sex with a pumpkin pie and birthed a cinnamon bun. Pun entirely intended. It wasn’t bad and he quickly swallowed the last bite in anticipation of whats to come. Given how the day has started, Tony hopes that Loki will be a bit more forthcoming with a plan at least, if not answers.

When even Huilomë begrudgingly finishes his last bite, that seem to be the cue T’Pol was waiting for. She uses her bowl to scoop up the ashes before tossing the content in an arc, blanketing the moss between the light and dark elf. Tony quickly raise from his perch to stand beside Fenrir in human form. Even the baby wolves join the group, completing the circle.

T’Pol crouches down and brandishes the dagger once more. This time though, no one reacts to its presence. She then uses the pointy end to sketch out a simplified map of the terrain. Tony recognized Gimlé and Onollo immediately while the other scratch marks was anyones guess.

Thankfully, she doesn’t waste their time and jumps right in to the thick of it, “According to Huilomë’s ramblings before he slumbered from exhaustion—” said elf gave a half-hearted glare before nodding for the go-ahead, “—his pursuit ended here, by the rivers edge before the trace disappeared.”

She then points the dagger at Fenrir before continuing, “Ferrin retraced your steps and even doubled back up and down the bank from the other side but found no trace of their reemergence. Given the bandits have a rock troll and a river troll amongst their lot, tis feasible they would have either gone upstream to Onollo or downstream towards Ports Mouth and mayhap emerge in any of the smaller villages along the river.”

At this point, Huilomë is shaking his head in dispute. He gave voice a moment later, “Tis downstream most like were they to succeed in their escape. Although such an unusual group would not go unnoticed in the smaller villages. No doubt, an alarm would be raised once they are sighted especially after absconding with something as conspicuous as people. Ports Mouth would be their likely route. The wharfs are teaming with seamen from all walks of life. Tis less noticeable were they to head there. We should alert the port authorities immediately.”

Tony was ready to nod in agreement when T’Pol points at Onollo of all places and asked plainly, “What if they chose that direction?”

Huilomë shakes his head again and states as a matter-of-fact, “Tis unheard of to breech those walls. Nay, that way leads to a dead end and their immediate capture.”

“Not if they can access the supposed hidden tunnels that lead to the cliff’s surface,” adds T’Pol with a raised brow.

Given how tight lip the other has been on the details, to Tony that seem like something that Loki wouldn’t just throw out there for shits and giggles.

At least Huilomë takes the suggestion seriously judging by the wrinkles creasing his forehead before it shot upward in dawning horror, “Where there are hundreds of hidden coves were they to traverse the mountain and scale down the adjacent cliff.” 

“Sounds like a perfect smuggling route to me,” throws in Tony with his two cents worth of commentary.

T’Pol mulls over the map for a moment before she straightens up then and puts the dagger away. With arms akimbo, she then gave out her orders, “Huilomë, Ferrin. Take the horse and escort Prince Anthony back to Gimlé. Then send word to the port authorities just in case. Meanwhile, I shall discover their hidden route.”

It should be a tribute to their haphazard gathering that Tony hardly needed to share a glance with the other two to quickly voiced their collective opinion on the matter. In which they unanimously declared a resounding, “No.”


	26. Wolves in the Field

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Chapter title is a play on word of Gerrin's cow in the field thought problem. I went through ten different versions before this one came into fruition. Please enjoy!

Riding a wolf was no different from riding a horse, aside from said wolf can talk and set ground rules that have dire consequences when broken. How dire? For starters, don’t even hint at using a saddle. Also, no steering in any way, shape, or form via knees, toes, and heels for it will result in missing said body part. And most importantly, if any clump of fur upon said wolf were to have gone missing during said ride? Well, Tony fancy keeping his auburn locks right where it is. Regardless, it wasn’t too hard to stay atop since his ride adjusted to each shift of Tony’s body like a sticky merry-go-round. Still, it was fucking weird considering it was Loki.

Yes, that Loki; the one and only second Prince of Ass-gard who’s been outré tense and ignoring Tony ever since they left the glade. Like he _asked_ for his royal Highness to lower himself even if said royalty is currently in disguise. Tony did offer to hoof it but was shot down immediately due to the necessity of speed. To begin with, the half dead looking Huilomë usurped their one and only horse by default. Given the centuries of mistrust, the light elf’s animosity doesn’t magically go away for their rescue mission. And courtesy of Loki’s warning, Tony won’t be riding shotgun with the barely a day old Alpha anytime soon. The other option was Fenrir but again with the mistrust given the ‘incident’ between _them_ , not likely. Hence _not_ his choice when Loki as T’Pol made the choice for him. So what’s with the silent treatment one might ask?

Odds are Loki’s brooding over the unanimous objection to his initial plan. Like it was Tony’s fault for the mutiny; he was just agreeing with the others. He may have spent a good ten minutes explaining how voting works in a democratic society but then, even the baby wolves raised their paw when a tally was taken.

Advance space Vikings his ass.

Speaking of asses, every overture to discuss the situation or make small talk had been rebuffed. Loki needs to put on his big boy pants and move on since the torpor of seeing an endless leitmotif of rocks and greenery was driving Tony to distraction. Proof positive: Tony counted seven monolithic boulders, fourteen ancient looking trees, three brooks, and one moose size deer that skittered off as soon as it caught wind of them. The result thus far: zero tunnels and zero trace of the bandits.

Time to execute: **Project Make Loki Talk**.

He sees that Fenrir is up ahead flanked by a pup on each side and followed closely by Huilomë not far behind. With a wicked glint in his eyes, Tony tentatively cards his fingers on the soft fur, right above the juncture where Loki’s neck should be. Wolf-Loki doesn’t even miss a stride. Abiding his time, Tony tries again by slowly stroking upwards.

As far as reaction goes being flung from his perch by a violent doglike shudder was certainly not what he expected. Flat on his back and having the wind knocked out of him, Tony blinks dazedly as dirt and dust pillow everywhere making his nose itch. It was sheer luck he landed on loose dirt versus the thorn bushes a few trees back. 

The self-proclaimed genius may have debated his life choices when a large paw plops down on his upper torso, just shy of his arc reactor. Tony gulps as his eyes met livid emeralds. Meanwhile, his nose continues to itch. Unable to move, Tony settles for wriggling it in hopes to prevent it. Wolf-Loki stops and starts. His jaw gape open at the dance Tony’s nose was performing. Tony sniffs, turns his head, and sneezes.

The paw on his chest soon lifted, allowing Tony to push himself up to a sitting position. He then rubs his nose with the back of his hand before standing. While dusting himself off, Tony turns to face a much more amenable version of Wolf-Loki.

“ _You_ are a menace,” the shifter gripes with a narrowing of his eyes.

“Jury’s out on that one,” declares Tony with a grin that was equal part mad and unapologetic.

Wolf-Loki snorts before asking, “Why did you distract me from our course? I thought you eager to rescue your friends.”

“I am,” nods Tony then shrugs as he says, “but I have questions and you were ignoring me. So…”

As the rest was self-explanatory, he prompts to continue their trek now that they’re on speaking terms again, “We can talk it out like adults while we do this surveying thing. Do you mind?”

A white canine featured heavily when Wolf-Loki agrees, “Not at all.”

Tony sidles next to Wolf-Loki and, nothing. By which Tony means the shifter is just standing there swishing his tail.

The genius rolls his eyes and remarks rather drily, “Funny; don’t be a dick.”

Wolf-Loki snorts again before contorting into a perfect stretch of downward dog moments before slapping Tony with his tail to proceed. If Tony wasn’t too busy spitting out wolf fur, he might have found the whole thing hilarious. As it were, he climbs up and resettles but almost falls off again when the shifter uses that position to sprint forward. Tony immediately throws his arms around shifter’s neck and hangs on for dear life while muttering epithets in his wake. By the time Wolf-Loki slows to a walk, Tony’s wrung out and purposely ignores the deep chuckle rumbling beneath him. 

He collapses bodily then takes a moment to catch his breath and promptly gets distracted by the subtle difference between Loki’s scents. As the original form, the Prince smells crisp and clean like fresh snow in a forest. This base scent then becomes muted, like it was purposely kept close to the vest as T’Pol. While as a wolf, he smells mainly of the outdoors. It was fascinating given the importance placed on scent for these aliens.

Shaking his head from such thoughts Tony soon notices the faint sound of rushing water not far away. Onollo must be close. It had to be since he could only recall that single outlet as the source of the river from the view on the garden terrace. Tony quickly pushes himself back to a sitting position. Far ahead, in between a few branches he could see the flood of torrential water pouring down into the valley. He estimated they’re less than a mile until the forest crept to the edge of a wide open field and onto cobblestone road. 

By now, the royal forge should be on high alert and probably had notified the King and his sister that Tony never made it. Would Onollo be open for business as usual or would they be on lockdown he wondered? On one hand, Tony would love to meet up with Mortan and collect his made in Alfheim katana set. On the other hand, they might not let him out of their sight and insist he be heavily guarded until Thor returns or something. That would suck. He was hoping to see this through with Loki and his merry band of misfits. When the time comes, Tony doubts he’ll have a say in the matter.

“Tis best we go on foot from here. The surrounding vegetation shall be harder to navigate from here on out,” said Loki as he transitioned from one form to another in the length it took to finish his sentence. Tony found himself clinging to broad shoulders like a limpet several inches off the ground. Awkward pause didn’t even cover that mortifying duration. He quickly let go when he felt the other shook with silent laughter and shifts once again. With eyes brighten by humor, she step to the side, extended her hand in a courtly manner and fucking curtsy. Tony held on to what’s left of his dignity and brushed pass the trickster in whatever form.

He waited a beat to get over the shame before bombarding the Alpha with some of his more burning questions, “Now that we’re even, are you going to tell me why you’re still crossdressing as T’Pol? Also, why did you dismiss Ports Mouth right off the bat? Wouldn’t it be better to cut them off by having a fleet of ships to intercept them? And what’s with the tunnels? Why are we just now worried about the potential backdoor to the kingdom? If—”

“Anthony,” she interjects.

“Erm…” Tony found himself having difficulty completing his thought let alone sentence. _It sounds weird coming from her that’s all_ , he told himself.

T’Pol then continues, “Now that you have a moment to breathe. Consider it self-preservation since you are incapable of preserving your own chastity.”

“Hey!”

T’Pol chuckles before continuing with a more serious reply, “You will find in this realm as well as many others: preconceived notions run deep. I am merely providing the stimulus. To suss out the culprit, one must gain truth on a knife’s edge.”

Not quite agreeing nor disagreeing with such an antagonistic strategy, Tony frowns before eyeing T’Pol with a skeptic look, “And the tunnels?”

She shrugs though her words show no sign of doubt, “The trolls. Their ability to manipulate elemental properties specific to their clan makes them valuable to employ as builders. Tis uncommon for one to venture beyond their guild however, lest they be disgraced outcasts with mercenary pursuits—”

“Don’t tell me that Red Cock tavern is a favorite hangout for backroom deals like that?” said Tony sparking with real concern upon hearing these trolls have some kind of elemental powers not unlike a few mutants he’d encountered.

T’Pol smirks before nodding, “Aye one of many. Thor should not have brought you there.”

Tony shakes his head, “Never mind that. If these bandits are so bald-faced as to conduct business like that, I can see why Ports Mouth would be a den for insurgents.”

“Indeed, my Uncle had long suspected a nobleman or two of employing them for their cause. Though his word is law, King Frey insists on tangible proof. We have been monitoring a few of them for quite some time yet no closer in discovery the true culprit.”

T’Pol pauses when they came upon Ofrid tied to a tree. She approaches the horse who stomp his hooves with excitement upon seeing her. With an amazing sleight of hand, T’Pol pulls out a red apple as a treat. Ofrid dips his head in delight before chomping down with gusto. She cards her fingers through his mane and gave a gentle pat before threading through the thick underbrushes. Tony follows.

 

T’Pol then resumes the topic, “These traitors are adept in covering their tracks. However, considering they have not one but three trolls on hand, it changes the scope entirely for these creatures do not come at a bargain.”

“Er—” In any given Monday because Sunday is overused, the young genius couldn't care less of the consequences of his more impulsive actions. In this case, Tony’s about to cross some diplomatic hot water, “Actually, there were four.”

She stops and turns aside to look at Tony, her confusion loud and clear written on her face, “I counted three. Was there another you saw?”

“Yes. Kinda. Sorta. No,” Tony hedged to prolong the inevitable.

T’Pol huffs in exasperation, “If you are withholding information that is pertinent to our cause, I suggest you spit it out promptly, little one.”

Tony grudgingly reaches inside his breast pocket and pulls out a pair of sunglasses then puts them on her face.

“I have seen these inventions before though not so darkened. They are called spectacles are they not?” T’Pol turns her head every which way in experiment, her curiosity quite obvious. 

So far so good.

Tony grins at the sight of her before swiping his index finger over the nose bridge thereby turning it on, “The tinted versions are called sunglasses. It helps to filter out the sunlight but since I built this myself, it’s the pared down version of my HUD design. HUD stands for heads up display.”

Tony never knew how much he missed talking tech until now. Two whole weeks was too long and his mouth motors on in his excitement, “The micro-radar sensor allows me to see a three sixty degree view of people and mobile objects within a hundred feet radius. It can also detect projectiles traveling under three hundred feet per second. I’m still working to increase the detection range and decrease the power consumption. It’ll help prolong the usage on the field without adding more…weight…to them?”

By the time Tony notices, T’Pol was not only unresponsive but had gone stock-still with her head cocked towards the cliff. He was about to have an ‘oh crap’ moment when she swiftly twists her body in a surprisingly graceful arc and flings a dagger all in one move then takes off at a run.

Tony didn’t have time to ask who, what, where, and why when he launches after her. He was poked by pointy twigs left and right, jumping over fallen branches, and rounds a tree only to stop quite abruptly. There, just a scant foot from Huilomë’s perch was one of those weird looking bandits they were so desperately searching for. Only, this one was nailed to a tree trunk with a dagger through his neck and smelling of fecal matter.

He swiftly turns away and covers his mouth, trying his best not to gag. It wasn’t that he’d never seen death before, just never so fresh and personal. He felt sick and unsettled. Huilomë was ashen white and equally disturbed, though perhaps not by the gruesome scene but the act from a supposed dark elf. He eventually nods his thanks and tiredly rises to his feet moments before Fenrir crashes through the brushes with a growl lodged in his throat. Upon seeing the coast was clear, the wolf yips twice then Skoll and Hati pads in. They nod in greeting before placing themselves beside Tony. Skoll nudges his hand with his wet nose until Tony relented at scratched behind his ears.

Beyond grateful for the company and distraction, Tony takes in a not so deep breath and barely flinches when he heard wet squelching noises as T’Pol pulls out the dagger and neatly lowers the body to the ground.

She quickly make swift work of cleaning the blade with the dead elf’s tunic. Upon straightening, she rejoins their group. Their positions a mirror of this morning. This time, her words rang with unwavering authority, “T’would seem we may have stumbled upon a grander scheme.”


	27. Murphy’s Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m eighty-eight percent happy with the results of this chapter and will leave it to Pepper Potts to claim the rest.
> 
> All joking aside, I will most likely revisit to wrestle the rest into form. Until then, chapter 8 of ‘Sigh Not So’ will be next.

There are times when Tony Stark just knew was going to be one of those days. Mentally crossing his fingers, he quickly took in a lungful of air and dove into the rapid curtain of water.

* * *

_Previously, less than two hours ago…_

 

_“Let me get this straight,” stated Tony before he wet his lips and attempt to wrap his head around the shifter’s latest conspiracy theory, “when King Frey took over, he issued an executive order that mandated all trade routes go through Ports Mouth. So these old tunnels you’ve mentioned were officially caved in for business. But once you saw those trolls’ ugly mug, you assumed they were hired to reopen them for the black market. But now after we caught one,” Tony pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the dead body then finished rather dubiously, “snooping around Onollo, you’re saying they’re after the Fort Knox of all weapons?”_

 

_As one might imagine, their group response fell all over the map. Huilomë hadn’t bothered to mince words since his astonished expression spoke for itself. Fenrir, as always, took his Alpha’s words as gospel and was ready for whatever plan of action. While the twin cubs lost interest halfway through and were mock wrestling one another. As for Tony, he was ready to phone in the cavalry._

 

_Finally recovered his capacity for words Huilomë spouted them in turn though with a hint of hysterics, “Onollo is as well guarded as the castle, even more so given—”_

 

_“Actually,” cut in Tony with a brief awkward hand-raise, “the last time I visited with Thor, the place was a ghost town. Mortan had sent all the Alphas to the living quarters as a precaution until I left.”_

 

_T’Pol glanced at Tony before adding, “Aye, were this precedence known to them, it would not take much for the bandits disguised in the King’s livery, taken from our own escorts I suspect, to garner access. Once inside, they could have easily overpower the weakened defenses.”_

 

_With disbelief still marring his brow, Huilomë scoffed out, “Baseless conjectures! What proof do you have? We are losing ground as we speak. Instead of loitering here, we could have seek out Onollo to send word both at Gimlé and Ports Mouth. We could have canvass further terrain without delay.”_

 

_T’Pol shook her head at the light elf’s narrow-mindedness and told him bluntly, “And what proof do you have that Onollo is **not** overrun by bandits? We could as easily walk into a trap. If what I say is false, the forge should have doubled the patrol once tis known we failed to make the appointment. Gimlé would have received word anon and a small legion sent to investigate. Tell me, do you not find it strange that we have yet run into any of our own on patrol? That we instead, met a bandit mere yards from the gate?”_

 

_Huilomë gritted his teeth, his eyes seethed on the verge of a firm rebuttal. Then, on the spur of the moment, looking like an elf with a renewed sense of purpose, Huilomë actually considered the possibility, “If what you say is true, the bandits would not have time to relocate the prisoners.”_

 

_T’Pol smirked at the light elf’s abrupt capitulation and reward it with a plan, “I shall scout around and discover what I can. You five, remain downwind and stay hidden until I bring news.”_

 

_And before the group could even think of objecting, T’Pol stated firmly, “There will be no voting on this.”_

 

_For the most part Tony recognized the caution needed to scope their options especially when the shapeshifter was the most equip to play point man, yet he finds himself conflicted by the decision. The others, on the other hand, had no qualm taking a more proactive course. Waiting, apparently composed of Huilomë slumping down once more against the nearest tree trunk and busied himself sharpening his swords. While the wolves took it upon their pack to rid of the corpse via burial though Tony was very much taken aback by them making a game of it._

 

_Getting momentarily distracted by their antics, Tony near missed T’Pol slipping away. The compulsion to follow drove him to hurry after her only to lose sight of the Alpha entirely. How she moved so fast, he didn’t know. She was perhaps maybe ten steps ahead and gone the next. Something not unlike fear begins to well within his core and nigh comes out as a startled gasp upon the feel of cold metal pressed to his jugular._

 

_“What do we have here?” Whispered the assailant right behind him. Forcing himself not to flinch at the cloying breath against his ear Tony tries his best to suppress a full-blown panic attack in being caught unaware and completely alone. With dawning horror, Tony braced himself when steely fingers wrapped around his biceps and marched him forward a few steps toward some trees before they spun him around abruptly._

 

_Shock barely described the emotional rollercoaster of the last few minutes since the blood that was initially drained from his face returned to his cheeks with a vengeance. Upon recognizing the familiar emerald orbs and the matching grin on a dead man’s face no less, Tony took it upon himself to wipe off that disturbing image with a slap. It felt good to savor the surprise on the doppelgänger for all of one-second until he was backed against a tree by the trickster’s true form. Loki braced his hands over Tony’s head and leaned into him. So close in fact, the Omega felt the heat and strength emanating from the Alpha._

 

_“I should tan your hide for that,” threatened the Prince._

 

_Tony wasn’t the least afraid and he wasn’t about to back down either. He even fought the urge to do it again. Instead, he stood up to his full height and poked a finger at the other’s chest for each emphasis, “ **that’s** for scaring the bejesus out of me. And what the hell were you thinking to wear a dead elf’s face? **That’s just plain rude!** ”_

 

_Tony managed three well aimed jabs before Loki intercepted with a firm grip on his wrist. The trickster simply rolled his eyes and said with a droll, “I highly doubt the dead would complain that I use his visage. How else do you suppose I may infiltrate within? Now, why are you here?”_

 

_Upon being reminded of his blind chase so bluntly, Tony found it hard to meet those curious green orbs. There was no masking it. He acted like a fool for letting himself become attached to the Alpha. He had no right to rely on Loki and felt stupid for doing so especially when there is so many people counting on them. Not wanting to be more embarrassed than he already was, Tony eventually grumbles out lamely, “I…ah-hem, wanted to say…that is…good luck and be safe. Um, yeah…that’s all.”_

 

_The silence that followed made things even more excruciating._

 

_Having fulfilled his awkward quota for the day, Tony planned to beat a quick retreat when he felt the hold on his wrist (which he’d forgotten was still there) became taut before Loki murmured in exchange, “Take care, little one.”_

 

_That shouldn’t have mean anything, yet Tony’s heart was pounding incessantly after Loki released his hold and had already retreated from view. By the time he darted his eyes upward, the trickster was nowhere in sight, leaving Tony feeling bereft of warmth and comfort. What Loki did left behind was a pair of prototype scan-glasses that was slipped onto Tony’s fingers._

 

_By the time Tony wandered back into camp, he gave up deciphering the enigma that was Loki. He knew he’d made a muck of things, but figured everything would work itself out somehow. In the meantime, he has bigger problems to resolve seeing as how the group he expected was nowhere to be found._

 

_Since he wasn’t gone that long nor walked too far, it didn’t make any sense. And to be clear, Tony wasn’t lost for there was a perfect elf shape mound right where he left them not twenty minutes ago!_

 

_Shit! Now was not the time for another panic attack._

 

_There weren’t many options for him to take. For one, Tony could stay and wait for them to come back. Or, whatever that scared them off could easily return for him. So staying could be a huge risk. The second was his least favorite, to wander around looking for them. Or Loki, a small part of him proposed despite how unfeasible that idea was. The trickster was heading into danger and with Tony’s knack for trouble that was a guarantee he’ll find it too. There was a third option, though it would mean he’ll end up wasting his best defense. The scan-glasses has two modes: it could detect movement **and** heat signatures within a hundred foot radius. On the plus side, it should allow him to see anyone approaching and run for cover if needed. The down side was that last time he checked the batteries are only good for a little over an hour at best. But then again, he could use the heat scan feature to follow the residual heat trail they left behind like cookie crumbs before it goes cold. They couldn’t have gone far._

 

_Oh, what to do!?_

 

_He ran both hands through his hair and paced about as he debated every which way. Until one thing was certain, Tony does not want to wait around where there was a dead body lying just ten feet away from him._

* * *

Science is awesome!

 

Tony crowed to himself once he recovered enough air and brain capacity from the wet belly flop he just made at the mouth of a small opening behind the waterfall. It was a gamble to trust the faded image from the scan-glasses, yet well worth it considering he’d been evading his pursuers for what seem like hours. There were five of them and clearly not his companions judging by their profile through the scanner.

 

After donning on the scan-glasses, Tony had been following the residual trail of Huilomë leaving first followed by Fenrir branching away from camp while the cubs paced about until they depart at a different direction. Most likely the light elf must have been trigger happy to go after his fiancé and took off on his own. So Fenrir then gave chase while the cubs waited around. But something must have spook the two for them to run off on their own. Tony must have just missed them. Since their trail was the freshest, he decided to put his trust on the baby wolves’ instincts.

 

From there, it was a game of nontrivial pursuit in which Tony can vouch he can do without. Even with the aid of the scan-glasses, evasive maneuvers could only delayed his pursuers for so long. By the time Tony traversed away from Onollo in order to cross the road and out of sight from the keep, he’d already gave up on tracking the twins to look for a hiding place.

 

Desperate and fresh out of ideas, it was pure chance that he looked towards the waterfall and saw what he did several yards up. Or rather, it was the absence of depth and the odd displacement of water that caught his attention before the scan-glasses battery died.

 

Now, whether his pursuers would commit the same slippery climb and leap of faith Tony made, he wasn’t staying around to find out. Even though he was soaked, cold, and hungry, moving forward took precedence. He quickly staggered onto his feet and hunched against a wall before pulling out a small penlight from his shoulder pocket to assess what he dove into.

 

It looked artificial, man-made or rather dwarf-made judging by the small and narrow size of it. It must be a service tunnel of sorts to unclog whatever size rocks from the channel that leads into the different forges further in. Although it was well hidden, security measures shouldn’t be this lax unless what Loki concluded earlier that morning was true.

 

And regrettably there was only one way to find out.

 

Though not even two steps into the tunnel, a cannonball of wet fur tackles Tony to the ground. The penlight flew out of his hand and hit the rock floor. Stunned by the impact, he only had a moment to brush his wet bangs out of his eyes before another wet fur ball lands on top of them. Despite having the wind knocked out of him not once or twice but three times in such a short order, Tony had never felt more relieved to smell the stench of wet dog.


	28. Out of the Pan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended for it to be longer and posted around X-mas. As you can see, I failed at both. Oh well, see you all again next year!
> 
> Have a safe and Happy New Year!

“Hey! Okay, okay! I missed you guys too. But seriously, quit it,” Tony giggles pleadingly in the midst of squirming away. Yet no matter how he dodge the cubs’ wet muzzles would follow. Despite his best efforts, both kept up the affectionate display until they stop, perked up and alert, bodies thrumming with tension. 

 

That’s when Tony heard it too.

 

Shouting, from multiple sources, strident and alien in nature to stand out amongst the din of falling water. It was coming from down below, not far from the mouth of the cave. Even if his scent was masked by the wolves and water, in all probability it wouldn’t take long for them to discover their hideaway.

 

Silently as could be, Tony free himself from the cubs and off the ground. He waves his hand to get Skull-hat’s attention before placing a finger over his lips in what he hopes is the universal gesture to stay quiet. They both nimbly shook their fur of the excess water without making too much noise then tilted their heads in unison and waited. Tony takes that as a good sign then signals them to follow, as soon as he locates the penlight that is. It couldn’t have dropped far. Anxiously, he scans every which way. Then he saw it.

 

Shit! Dangling precariously by the ledge, it shone like a beacon for all to see. Tony quickly dives for it and click the switch, hoping it went unnoticed through the veil of water. Another shout from the group below has him fighting off the dread of imminent discovery. Tony gestures eagerly for Skull-hat to move as they scurry down the tunnel like rats in a sewer.

 

And frankly regretted making that comparison for no sooner they ventured deeper within, the stronger the stench of something foul became. Even Skull-hat wasn’t as gung-ho to lead the expedition as from the onset. Yet, it wasn’t safe to turn back. So they trek onward. As their visibility wane, Tony intend to draw out the penlight again versus relying on his own personal one when he noticed something shimmering in the faint distance. At first the specks of light look like fireflies but the array seem too organized. His eyes soon adjusted to the bluish tint as they got nearer. He can clearly see that they weren’t fireflies at all, but luminescent ropes hanging from the low ceiling like Christmas ornaments. It was remarkable in view of what he’d seen so far since the elves has yet to discover electricity. Curious of the contraption and the mechanism powering it, Tony reaches out for the nearest cord—

“Ah!” 

 

Before his fingers could connect, Tony was yanked back violently by his jacket, jarring him to take a few steps back. He rounds startled eyes downward. Hati quickly releases his teeth then licks Tony’s hand in apology while Skoll boxed in closer, growling at the ceiling.

 

Tony gulps at the clear and present danger. He’d seen enough horror movies to knowing avoid the jump scare wherein whatever it is starts attacking them for something stupid like shining a penlight at them. So he secures the item away and takes a few steps back before activating both gauntlets just in case. Armed and ready, he veers upwards to take in the unknown threat. Initially, he didn’t notice anything at all and waited anxiously until he saw one of the strands lengthening incrementally. He followed that line of sight upwards to the ceiling, staring avidly and gasp. It was… a worm. An exceedingly large, mucous worm with small razor sharp teeth.

 

Tony gulps again. The whole ceiling was alive and crawling with them apparently seeing how many strands there were lighting the dark passage forward. One would think given the threat clearly outlined that the self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, philanthropist Omega would grant their situation the gravitas it warranted. The answer however is perversely the opposite. As it were, Tony jokes unashamedly to the baby wolves, “Bad touchy?”

 

Rather than answer him, not that Tony expected them to, Hati flattens his ears, dips his stance and led by example in slowly padding his way through, minding the longer strands as he goes. Skoll then nudges Tony’s thigh to get with the program. Not relishing to duck walk for however long, Tony gets down on hands and knees and crawls after Hati with Skoll closing the odd procession. 

 

The rhythmic clink of his gauntlets on stone accompanied by the occasional wet suctioning from the worms above shortly replaced the backdrop of falling water. This gave their predicament even more of an eerie vibe as they steadily crept forward. Tony hopes there is an exit soon and not a boss battle with a giant slug or something. Otherwise, that would be the snot icing on a rather shitty cake since that foul smell wasn’t getting any better. But then again, he shouldn’t be the one to complain when both wolf cubs are trudging on with him despite whimpering every few minutes. No doubt the affront to their acute senses was much worse.

 

It was ten minutes top but felt like hours at what time a new sound joined the creepy ensemble. It did little to improve the fear factor and may have caused the hair on the back of Tony’s neck to go permanently vertical. Farther up, perhaps a few yards ahead, there was a steady drone of scuttling, scraping noises interspersed with shrieks and the flapping of wings. Only, it wasn’t just one, but hundreds if not thousands echoing in disharmony. Tony could live without knowing what those noises meant but nothing beats seeing it live and in concert that puts things into perspective.

 

Their tunnel opens up to a small auditorium of a cavern brimming with a sea of bugs that Tony rather not look too closely at to determine the genus of. There were millions of them, undulating from wall to wall. As for the shrieks and flapping of wings? That would be the bats of course, occupying every nook and cranny of the stalagmite ceiling. There _were_ thousands of them, eyes glowing twin pinpricks in the dark. And that foul smell that so kindly waft into his face? Guano, otherwise known as bat feces. There was enough to fill an Olympic size pool given his estimation of the cavern’s depth and height. Not that anyone in their right mind would want to swim in that.

 

Purely base on awesome guesswork, the bugs most likely feed on the bat poop, the worms then feed on the bugs, and the bats probably feed on the worms. It was a perfect self-sustaining system that most likely serve multiple purposes. For one, obviously there was no need for patrol of the service tunnels since the smell would certainly drive most living things away. The proof was clear seeing how increasingly agitated both wolf cubs are at present. It was disgusting, but effective. As for those more single-minded who manage to make it this far, the creepy glowworms would probably be more than sufficient deterrent. Secondly, the other purpose was certainly for profit since Tony met a few heirs from college whose families was in the guano mining business. Not that he has any plans to admire the investment opportunities at the moment. Looking for a way inside the forge takes precedence. Preferably before he faints from the stench or the cubs turn feral by the looks of them.

 

Oh crap. And yes, Tony is well aware of the irony.

 

He pokes his head further through the opening, all the while making sure his nightlight is sufficiently covered lest the bats mistake him for a giant juicy glowworm. He then surveys the cavern from every possible angle. As he thought, theirs weren’t the only service tunnel. Over two dozen lit the surrounding walls at varying levels. Regrettably, it wasn’t obvious which one led into the forge nor was it obvious how the elves access any of them without wading through the filth.

 

Tony withdrew into the tunnel and plops himself down against a wall, more than annoyed by this major setback. At least this far out from the tunnel, the glowworms receded far enough to not be a bother but once in a while, he would flick a bug off his person while Skull-hat channels their increase tension by squashing the bugs that wander too close.

 

A crash, loud and cacophonous reverberated from the other end of the tunnel signaling their time was up. Skull-hat perks up once more to stand guard, growling in a deeper volume. How unfortunate, they didn’t have the luxury to linger, Tony was just beginning to enjoy the view. He spits a curse and pokes his head out through the opening again. His eyes darting every which way, frantically searching for a lifeline. The increase frequency of careless noises only drove him to be desperate. This time, instead of looking at the other lighted tunnels, he searched the darkness for anything that stood out. Like before, he stared avidly into the dark and saw—

 

There!

 

Approximately thirty degrees to the left and ten feet below, there was a ledge of some sort. Tony had dismiss it at first until he saw there was a distinguished arch almost at level with the pool of filth. Oddly, the arch was filled by a void as if purposely kept dark. It would be more than a leap of fate at this point. For one, if he was wrong, they would be more vulnerable crammed on a six by four foot wide ledge and have a harder time finding another exit. For another, regardless if he was correct or not, if they miss the jump even by an inch, Tony does not relish the swim he mentioned earlier.

 

A screeching howl followed by yelling caused the whole cavern to become more alive by the disturbance. Skull-hat digs their paw into the ground as if ready to pounce at a moments notice. It was now or never. 

 

“Hati!”

 

Said wolf turns toward him, eyes wet and body quivering with fear. Yet, despite it all, the bravery of their action spoke even more clearly. Tony grins with pride and waves for the wolf to come closer. He quickly begins his instructions, “Come here! You see that ledge there? I think that’s our best bet. Can you make it?”

 

The wolf tilts his head and turns back to Tony before emitting a high pitch whine as if to say, ‘are you nuts?’

 

Tony then tries to reason, “If I’m wrong, I think you have a better chance of making it back up here.”

 

If possible, Hati emits the same sound at a higher pitch. At least the look of fear was gone. Exasperated yet not entirely surprised by the amount of sass coming from Fenrir’s offspring, Tony rolls his eyes and states their options, “A, we can make a leap of fate and try our luck at an escape or B, we stand our ground and fight. I’m more of a live to fight another day kinda guy, you know?”

As far as a rousing speech goes, Tony knows it was half-assed. Then again, he’s stuck in a cavern, between a rocky ledge and foul place, trying to convince a wolf of all things. He should get an E for effort. When the noise from the other end of the tunnel refuse to die and dares to come nearer, Tony makes his last plea, “So what do you say? Live a little?”

 

Hati narrows his eyes, stares for a moment, before walking back to his brother. Tony dips his head in defeat, only to lift it back up in surprise when he heard pattering steps before a furry body runs past him and jumps off the edge. Skoll joined him immediately to poke their heads out to see if Hati stuck the landing.

 

Yes!

 

The wolf yips once before disappearing into the void entirely. They waited another beat before Hati reappears and yips again. Seeing the success at hand, Tony throws his arms up in triumph only for his wrists to be ceased by a very large palm that was connected to an even larger arm splattered with luminescent slime and large bite marks. He fought uselessly to loosen the grip even as he was dragged back. Skoll chases after him and pounces at the culprit. A thump followed by a yelp has Tony shouting at the remaining wolf in fear, “Go! Save yourself! Go! Now!”

 

Skoll stumbles back to his feet, barking furiously before receding from view.

 

Not sighing in relief just yet, Tony struggles to overcome his panic and wait for an opening to blow his body snatcher to kingdom come. He absolutely refuse to make it easy on them either as he slouch his body like so much dead weight despite the mess of worm guts splattered everywhere. Just his luck, he never got the chance to when his assailant didn’t even hesitate to dive into the waterfall, yanking him beneath the undertow, uncaring as water filled his lungs.


	29. Interlude: Chaos and Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Loki's POV in this one. I am 90% happy with the results and will come back to claim the rest when I am less fed up reviewing the same passages over and over again. Getting inside Loki's head is very...urm....irksome? Complicated? A labor of love? Yeah, okay, let's call it that. Anyhow, I hope you like the glimpse to what Loki had been plotting and his er...motivation for later on.
> 
> And thank you Akuma-River for the title inspiration.

_‘Good luck and be safe…’_

 

Nothing more than idle words extemporarily spoken. Yet—

 

Loki remembers unruly fringes covering a discomfited face. He pauses in his trek and stares at the hand that still itched to touch.

 

Bah!

 

Such baseless sentiments from a mortal he hardly knows, from an Omega most infuriating. Loki would be a fool indeed to consider otherwise. Clenching a fist to suffocate the notion, he channels magic on the task at hand and dons the guise once more.

* * *

Pebbled rocks crunch noisily beneath his feet as the trickster approach the gates of Onollo directly. When no warning arrows slow his gait, he carries on pass the five hundred yard mark and was greeted at the wicket by a hooded figure. He scents the air but could only discern tis an Alpha beneath the layers due to their stance. Wary of the encounter, Loki plays up his nonexistent limp and wisely refrains from initiating the impending contact.

 

“Amön Hend! About time you drag your useless carcass back from patrol,” Hissed the Alpha in Sitherin. 

 

Loki kept his expression passive both from his morbid humor on the apt description and the misgiving reaped from this simple exchange. A closer examination of blue fur and white whiskers peaking from the brown cloak confirms his suspicion in spite of the scent eluding him still at such a close range. An enchantment perhaps? Regardless, it would seem these dissenters are casting their nets on a populace far wider than speculated, having manage to entice marauders, trolls, and now Cath Siths to their cause. 

 

Judging by the disdain in the Cath Sith’s tone however, the bond between parties most likely remain pecuniary and not something noxious as an ideal. Certainly, tis something to exploit later. For now, he lifts the bloody cloth he soaked from a dead elf to demonstrate the illusory wound on his neck, intending to gain empathy in part to establish his narrative and to excuse any behavioral missteps.

 

The Cath Sith winces visibly afore touting a much more tenable lecture, “Ulik wants all idle hands on deck. Injured or not, tis every man, elf, and troll to find their own plunder even tis a measly token we may keep ourselves.”

 

An intentional flash of ruby on gold catches Loki’s eyes and the Cath Sith purrs at his piqued interest, “An amulet of concealment. Best of luck sifting through our leavings before those Asgardian louts arrive, Amön.”

 

Loki grunts irritably before limping his way pass the threshold to take in the sacking of Onollo. All around, scarcely a dozen Beta elves and dwarves lay where they fell dead. While the captives were corralled by the work entrance, alive and well though some with visible minor wounds and bruises. Amongst them were Anthony’s missing companions, a few dwarves and elves. Notably, all without distinct scent markers. They were shackled and gagged, though only a few remain alert to witness the pillaging. Where, in the center courtyard, five piles consisting of weapons, armory, ornate boxes of various sizes, and jewels strewn indiscriminately atop open chests. More were being distributed as one after another, the marauders march in and out of the work entrance with some already adorning their spoils regardless of the nuisance they make.

 

Loki pretends to be impressed by his examination then set his sights toward the work entrance. While limping just a bit more clumsily to exhibit his eagerness, he surveys their numbers and position. And counts five cloaked Alphas overlooking the battlement. Another two and an orange-skinned Alpha rock troll near the rubble of what remain the entrance to the living quarters. No doubt, the bulk of the occupants are barricaded within. Loki dismisses the risky option of freeing them just yet. The young prisoners however— he brazenly waves at them as he pass by. If their restraints somehow becomes less so later, tis up to them to make use of the opportunity. With his promise to Anthony fulfilled, Loki makes his way through the entrance, pass the anterior chamber, and straight into a tunnel without hesitation.

 

Of the six branches, this particular one was purposely the narrowest, windiest, and has the longest corridor. After a few steps in, Loki forgoes his limp to hasten up the path. He made quick work to tuck the blood soaked cloth around his neck to free his hands, lest he need wield his daggers prematurely. Although he encountered none on his way up, the cacophony of smashing meld with orders being issued has Loki reevaluate his approach. He peeks from the shadows, espying another Alpha rock troll directing a team to ransack of what looks like a craftman’s workshop.

 

“Amön! Get your lazy arse over here!” demands the Alpha troll without even turning around. “See if you can find anything of value.”

 

Taking his discovery in stride, Loki shuffles in and feigns obeisance. He randomly sidles to a corner nearest his goal of Mortan’s personal worktable which was left fairly unscathed. He makes a show of kicking over wooden crates and upending trunks with glee. Burnt scrolls, dated maps, and earmarked books intersperse with unfinished pieces of clothes and metal knickknacks spilled about the floor. Although nothing extraordinary to the untrained eye, Loki knew better. He crouches down to sift through the mess and chucks a few items around like secondhand goods. While thus occupied, he notes a few had given up and was sent elsewhere by the troll. Not intending to leave anytime soon, he moves to a nearby section of overturned shelves to keep busy. Yet, no sooner did he crouch down and remove a few broken shards, Loki bit back a curse at what he happened upon. Leave it to the old conniving foreman to store raw uru with other ores as a box of useless rocks. He discretely magics a few boulder size chunks up his sleeve when his wrist was abruptly engulfed by orange fingers. He stills afore turning obsequious, downcast eyes to glean polished black ones.

 

“Nicely done. Horth will be pleased,” the Alpha troll praises with a curl of his lips.

 

Loki slowly nods in deference as the box of ores was taken from him. Then the troll manages to surprise the trickster when he plucks out the smallest piece and tosses it to Loki before closing the lid shut.

 

“There, a king’s ransom for your labors lost,” announces the troll with cruelty before heading out with the box. Leaving Loki to deal with four Betas coveting the shiny ore resting on his palm.

 

Strained misgivings holds them at an impasse, until an arm drops uninvited on Loki’s shoulder. He quells the urge to chop it off immediately and kept his expression skittish as he cast his gaze askance to the others. The troll’s words rang part farewell, part warning. Apparently tis true, there _was_ no honor amongst thieves. Loki squares his jaw before tossing the useless chunk into the air, diverting their rapt attention.

 

As it shimmers and fades into iron ore, enchanted daggers appears within his grasp. With a speed born of practice, Loki lodges it in the heart of the closest one to his left. As that ruffian crumbles with a cracked scream, he twists beneath the outstretched arm still attached to him and gladly slices up and across. Warm blood spurts in a wide arc as the offender burbles and chokes from the fatal wound on his neck. The offensive hand drops at the same rate as the body it was attached to, clutching in a death grip, the bloody cloth that was previously around his neck. Loki takes no notice of this, his focus engaged on the remaining two who took the precaution to distance themselves from his effectual reach. Decorated with more red than he prefers, Loki nimbly steps away from the crowded floor and into more open space. 

 

“Wh— who are you?” shouts the one to his right with a dirk in hand.

 

At the same time the one to his left, mirrored the other and came to the same conclusion after sniffing the air, “You are not Amön!”

 

Saying not a word, Loki ducks his head and flashes a quaint smirk. He simply toys the remaining dagger in hand, twirling with increasing deftness as the pair circles him to find an opening. Unnerved by his antics they charged him in turn, one thrusts and retreats while the other complements the maneuver. Being no stranger to such a tactic, Loki parries and dodges in countermeasure. 

 

Twas no contest obviously. Loki may not be a lauded fighter from Asgard, but he _was_ their mischievous second Prince. That lends a certain distinction he still maintains. Having the duo boxed him into a corner, with one forearm deflecting a blow and another preventing the dirk from connecting into skull overhead, Loki chuckles at seeing their horror when his illusion dissolves and he reappears from behind, each receiving a dagger at their back. Twin thuds of body falling echoes in the demolished workroom.

 

Shaking his head at the bloody mess, Loki retrieves his daggers with a wave of his hand then walks back to Mortan’s worktable. Crouching down once more, he carefully scans the contents of each scroll, map, and notebook he came across while keeping his senses on high alert. Not seeing the information he was searching for, Loki magics them away to be peruse in depth later. For there was still the matter outside to resolve.

 

The trickster spends a moment to recuperate and rethink his strategy. Not that he truly had one. Twas more advantageous to improvise and strike while the irons hot he has found. The loss of lives were unfortunate. Now that he acquired the piece he needed, twas time to clean house as the Midgardian saying goes.

 

Judging by the lateness of the hour, how these greedy bastards plan to escape without a skilled mage Loki would like to know, for he has yet to sense one amongst their conglomeration. Rock trolls are proficient earth elementals certainly. However, even they cannot carve their way fast enough. Let alone mobilized so many of their party and cargo up the cliff and across the mountain then down the coves before nightfall. Were they to have another day or two, their plan may have work perhaps. How unfortunate, Thor and his followers will not be delayed for long. Loki had made sure of it. By tonight, King Frey shall have the name of his traitors and Loki his boon. 

 

No sooner had he made that supposition, the trickster realized the folly of his conclusion. The thought had been nagging him since he entered the keep: the possible reasons the dissenters have to involve the Cath Siths. Oh, why did he not think of it before!

 

Loki sprints out of the room and charges down the corridor, hoping that he was not too late. The scent of smoke drew curses to spew forth the longer it took for him to exit the forge. He burst out to the sound of infighting while the ruins of Onollo was set ablaze. And made worse, as five catbirds of varying shades of brown fanned heavy gusts of wind as they take flight with the raiders and their spoils in toll.

Yet the Norns were not done mocking his misdeeds. Having killed the last of the stragglers that got left behind, all swords from the escaped prisoners point towards him, no doubt offering the same demise.

 

He quickly raised both hands up in mock surrender and changes back to a form most familiar. Though shock registered from those who recognized him, their swords did not waver as suspicion swiftly takes its place.

 

Loki flashes his most disarming smile yet it soon fades to one of confusion. As the scent of Hati and Skoll drew near from behind, he ignores the present threat and kneels down on one knee to greet the wargs properly. Both were frightfully hard to contain as their frantic energy carried a note of desperation and worry. 

 

A strange sensation flutters to life in the pit of his stomach as Loki caught glimpses of the pairs surface thoughts. As the impression grows clearer that sensation flows to his chest and constricts the organ palpitating a most dangerous beat. With his chest heaving in undeniable anger, Loki’s gaze burn towards the distant horizon and watches helplessly as giant catbirds carry his Anthony further and further away.


End file.
